

H 


• 


% -^ 4 * 

•\v^ 'tt 

» * * 


-* « * 




%.v 




'^- 

X 5 : ; : 

v:: *» 

-W. ■• y 


.♦ Kr 

«*4 






. \t: 


"‘IV. 


> V 
• I 
V 

A- 


'.a. 

•-.-u 

-a 


• 




•,%rr 

' 'U.. 


%>• 

* • 


:U 


' t 


•HS 

'«• ♦ 


•a 

«*> 

H 

■ ^ 

.•f 


.. r X 

•:.*ir 


• • \ 
'r ;' 


!!;. ■ 


. a 

< 


■:• / 

• ' ■ ' 

'\‘:xv 

A•.^? -» 

- 

vv;. .£. 
VT.rr 
A'V'tv 

'\'. -.1 

^ 1 






. xli-V 

'•■'•V 4 

1 

■:'-X^- 
' - 

'^\- 

‘W 


■\v' 


•W.v*’ 


'.I.i 
■ V-.' 
.- 


w 


% * 
• %'• 

k « 


, .*-'y I 
\ V 


r:h. 


v%% 


iV 


» % k • k V 






' k ' . > 

. . y’ A ' 


• 

•' » * ‘A • . % 

» < .* » • . . 

$ 

% to • 1 




f \ 


. 

. . y • A • 

• ' * , . . k * ^ i • ; 






• 

. 

• * • • ; • • . , * . 


, .V . 


\*. S*. . X k 


A 


A * .k X,. 


,v .-.r- 

■ ■ .'■ Vf •''t 
'* r-: i: ^-• 


A ••• 


A 


A 


,V • : 

■ 

• » 


• » » ' 

• * y 


.• N 


•A '"• 

'y V • . 




i 


• ' .* r * « 






■' '•*. ' ’ 

< . ' '■ 


.^ ■ V ^ 

/ ’ \ 'i *i ' ' ' * , 




'•V' •'* 


•: :i 




k I k 


.'i ' ^ 

si: 

-'1 / 


^ I 


. ) 


■ .'■ ■' ■'■■ -■' :■: ■-■ ■> ■■i' x-''" 

' ' . •. • * ' - \ • . 

** * ^.,.. « « ♦I.*,. 

■-' ■ ■•■ V" :■ .:r.-v 

*•• ...» • 

» ■ ' * “» ' 
• ' .'*1 - .•* S . 

• ; . ^.•.•• . ••■ .; -•: ‘ ' 

. . • ' .' . ;■ ':< - '■ \vv.A' 

• •• y -s. .,»*.,1 

'M' y 

‘s \ ^ * s , •%< - 

-»»%*•• • ■ • ,W . . k , *• I .* , 

x J a:-'-:"'.--,.- -■ '''y ;':■ ■^■'; ^ :cx;-" ■ 

' ' * • k X \ I *•.'* •'» 

*"•; * •. X > . V : ( ; ^ 

. % • V . % . 

" * ' • 

’ . .1 1 


. . i 

• 'J A 




* K 


J 


• - • ' ' * 




k* 


i 

. . 

.1 

* y«k''*' •* y ' 

* • k ' 

• " X . * A A ' 

' - . A*' ••.■ 

• « 

. < 

'V 1 

k 

j 

1 

f 


k 



^ . 4 k. .1 



:> 




>• .. , » . 4 k« ..»• . 1 * 

■ • '.' • '•• ' •' '•' •; v-'- 

*k • . • ' y ' . . ' . . * ri \ .V. . 

‘.A ’ * V • . ! i' 'V., *. \ . 

*- * . . * » . ‘ , '. *' S . k ' * * . * * \ ' ' * 




• N • • , k . 
' V . . 


V ^ “ 


•• ■ -xx : A. 

^• . »' o* . . k** V. . ' , 

» - ,/S » - > 


1?* 

V 


• A k > » 


kl 


i 

• k 


-> . ' 
A * 






A\ 


. A 


. . V 

• » k . 

y. • » • 


•■•’• 'X 




' A , A 
AW 


y 

t 


, y 

i 


‘ . _ ' ' ' \ . k'.*'^ 0- ' 

V' '. , ' y ‘ ' 

* ‘ V ' ' ' a *y • * • • ‘ ♦ » 

- 

. • 



1 

••• •• k A • 

. ■ 

1 


* • « 

* ' X • •'• » . . 

y 


A'.'A- 


, 1 


■ s* '''a ^^:.AA'V\k 


fy 


A^ * 


' X ' A A .*.***> V A S . 
\‘ • . , *A * ' ^^\^* 


.A • 


.'*- i 

k< ♦ 


\* ^ 




^-•' ^ 


1 * • 4 ' 

t*:. ',- •►.••. ' ‘ 




. y . .> « . 

.* • . *. ..\ .•v'kk^vV 

% .. .».. .a' 

•. .•■ ' . ••• : •:•’ 

\S A « »««%. 

■• ••■ . •' '• ■:--: • •-vx •••; /Cv.v.'^-. 

•>. 

X '.-A- ,\- • -.'••■ ••;' • ■ V- -••• A ::; • ...-. . • 


v.'Xv 
A%| 








*.' . 'v I ' . •• . \ 

-» ■- ', ■ 


^ ;' 

v! 




k.>V i 
> 


.'V-:- 


. • . 1 

A.' 


XV, A A' '' 

. sS.kA,* Y '. . . 

, . • .N * , k\ . » ^• 








. I 


' ' V '»yOA; /.• - . 

\ • • . •.' • . \ % y*,V. *> 

» s ' • • — ^ , 




v** . ^ ' 

kS S . k 


' ^ A . . . ‘ y* k\^ ' ' \ S'.' 'V 

\ *.*' ‘ V - ^ .'AX.-.k . A ' . 

' • ' \ . * '**' y\-S^^k,*A« 

A . A . ' A , 

y . . V • ' • 








■' -vA^.s' 

" ■' 4 . 


A.;' 

^*ni 






• A\ ' • V * \ A A , .\A . • *.y\k .V . ,S A • 

, ' * • 's,*. '' 'A V- \y ' k A* ' A- kS- k,A\-\\\ 

. . y ‘ ^V* *A*Vv.''*t" -V ‘ ^ 

Vv ‘-k^AV- v-‘v^ i; ; *\k aV.'V\'' k:VV--'\' ' a\ \*^ ;Vk.c - 

. • .A V' W'a »a.. ks’ a' A, .•. y . , k •. . 

. 'yy_ .A *,. . . .',y.'k.k>-*k'y*y ,».kk « 

, ' . • • A . V .k . .. - _ ^ 

.«k- ' >' * •' V..'. A ». V, . 

A .. »\ . k - - A VA * « A , • • » A . 1 A . . ... ' • ,• . . . • • ' ' > 

‘ • ’ • . \a'‘ . y . • ' k' A ' 

k. ' ..y\v'- . y \ A . • \\ . • A . k- " . ' .• • A-* 

. . ' y' ' * • '. AX ' , A k . \ A . . *•. . . . .A 


\ * ' 


1 


:^l 


A\ ^ 

\ - - ■ 


Ak.*^ 


• • '-it 

A * S 


X ‘ 

. ..^ \x* V • / ' ' 


V > 


-.>:^y'- ' 




i 


y 

•• 


A' 


N- tV 


¥ 


C V kkAVAAkV' 
J AV 


V ^ 




A . ' .* N 

A A 


x.:a; f':'; y^' 

V 


• .1 r '«. I 


• A •' A V.'y- y .Vk '• kV 'v'... V. kA... • .A \v \' 

.• A*‘'v;* ^y* . . .* X'‘-‘ a'". VkXA^ '‘V 'k^•X^'^'v 

.' * . •. . ' . A A . ^y kA A . > . \ ^ * - A -A .' \ yA A' a' 1 A ' \% 

•" . .\kW A' V A A* *‘A*' ' .V • • .A * \\A\A W ‘‘kV ''kA \' v' 

A .A • k*.’ A ; A A . ; • N' ' V V • .A \ sAA ' k k' A'k' *• v'; '.a .<vV'* 

;..N" .,A A ^-Ak ' Ax* • .. . . .A • y .A.V.'V^ »A. .*; 

. -. A. yy ,. y . *,..*-ykyy«\^4‘. % ‘ 

.••'.AAa* '.A\A y‘>y.'*A" ' ’‘A - aa .’A^.A^ n* ..V.A ' 'A, . kX: .A'- • * 

. , .* k . . . A . . . . . . ^ ' aA . kS". A’ * . . • . X V A 

• kk. tS «v. k A .*% y y y« A ..AH««,k%.*'A»'k Ay' % 

A %'.• A'.' .'A A*' Ay A'-kV A. .A A .• ,..A . k.A Vt AM 


'A*> s\' 


• \S 


i 


A ^ I ' .- f.k 'A 




% ^ 




1 


Is's} 

‘lx. 


kk< 

'.k 


;1 


^ k 




>A A 

• N. 




. V’ 
;* N\ 




.y.**.y% .AS. . y'y* ' .* « 'y* .%*•> k ’k«.kAk,..,» 

. . y . . k • k A » ' . y •> . > A s . y . . A • k ‘ . a * a . k V' • ^' VV S * V 

A . y . ' ' . . y . . , ^ ' kA . kS-. .y’ • . . A^ ' . X V A 

y»y.»kk, tS «A. k k . ^ * * y^ aVAa.aS ^ ..A.H«««.,%,.AkA «>«Ay. « 

A %'.• A'.' .'A A*' Ay A'-kV .X A .• . k.A Vt AM 

'A'.'A ' AA.‘'\.A' .* •' AA' .A A kAsA ,aA y .AA . * * A - A* .* A A ' 

*Av ' , .a‘ .y AA • .'A‘* A** A*.* ...A •• ,, aA AX 

y.A.A.-.kyk y.,\ y. .yk .. yk %\ .k*- yy .V..y •• 

^ 'A'‘AA'A' kV .AA ..AA'.* .A* .’A .'X** * aA' \a .A . A" 'VX%iy 

s‘ • sA*' . . ' ' A’ A . A . A*k AA • y‘\.A..A/- • .V*' '•A .'AAVX'^" 

.k,y«, ' .. k k. .. «%*. yy.. ..« 0 » * y' 

.y'.'k* « A* A .... ... - 

‘ . .y . ^..^.yVy .k. A.,kk yykXkvN 

V'''V'V'V '/V-' ' ' v .x'‘'aXV .-'V-vi' .VvVjX ' 'aaC :V .axavVa 


.A 

;: »- 


A S 

. \ 






i >. 


VA : Av 11 ; 1 A'‘:AA-:,.v’;:A' 1 n\.--A'A>;, ::'Ax - a a ^:yyw:AV 

.*y‘ kk’.' '* ‘ y«s* k«y yy^k.k k»k» 'A 

» .'k. . ••♦iXkk.A'.k. yk .k»yk. y*, \.’y\. A.k*-. »• ,. x *' 

,. •.• '• ..-.'V ».''.k , . . \ '. -'vW.Nx-' 

''k'A.'kk. yA,,.,k...k. .**k..S y .A .kk ...'k VV 

" A' \* A ' A •' O' * . . ' A-y s • ' . k*A' • yy A* .* \* A ' 'A 0 ' Vi 

\ ^ A • ^ , \A • ' - ' ' A , k' A'A . • A'* AA .• . ' A A •% vX* A'C- a* v 

ky.y y, k^yyy 'Akk .• ,y\.., yyk.y ... *«, . .kk'ykS' V. y 

k..ky A.»-%y. *k A sV..yk.,.. ' V \y . .v . k « 

•,• A . k k . . V . . ‘. . A . . .' . yV , . k . ^ k y . . X- • ' y 

^V' «k**k -kk, kys.k.y »k 

, k . . A . . , . . . . . . . . . . k k \ . . X . k , y . y y S \ 4 \ 

y^>»'*^^ .,yk.. y.yk, .. X-.'yy.^* ..„ X'*, 

• k 


V' ,A 






s 






A s 

> A 


k ‘k 


v- vx 


\k 


yAW 


k* • yk .»A k* 'k'^*. *,*'**'». *k'»X* *•'. ,.\yk'»' v**. k'AA'S'k^ 

.kA.«k*Ayk' '• •k*«k.'k,‘ky. y.y y-...- y. ‘sV kk 

• . ‘ • A A • • " - . A' . A . . .\v - A - A* \ y. k k. A Vv‘ 

^A A ' A k^ ^ I k A k . .X^y . . . A k. • k . A A % , ■ . ' H k . ' A ' 'k' ' \ ' 

' * ' ' k ' k* y . A X a'a " * \ * , A . v' A , • k* « . O' V 

* k. ...yy' . y\ ...-\ ....y\ • XV.^kVx' 

.\A«yy..<.y X k y x*.^* .ky'*y yyN y A.^y^' k' 

I'-.A.k y.yk k«k.‘ V .'•*'\'k4kkk y.'k.y* ... .k.y k..y ,\ >y y. 

\-.\V.'. ,-, ..•>.•. •. '• ''...A' •• .S* >\' .->. 

. A.yk yk- '.«k \k.k.'.y*.v *..k ..*> yyk.«»..k*-, «. 

A. A'* A'X.'v''*. ,\OA.‘k\syV. A.' ''Ak- V “/A' . A.*^.. .A" .A N ' AA AA'. A'kAA 

k *y y y A ' ' ' * k\' * ' . 'k »• ky.y.^^. ,k',»y 

\v" x\'C\\\. yWO.VWBkkNVNAV^*''' A .-\' •\' . .\'\.Vy A 'yyV .. ...vV ..o\-..' v. . 

y.kA'yykk.k' .A ..\\Xy 


y>' ** 
A\«i. 
te:r 


s * 


■} 
\ k 


A 'v -k ■ .:• .Vy ' '' * ■ k’S% 

:-:;vv^x:vN^Ay.. 

■ * ' ' k' » k- 


AX'W'- •.- A\'..’ •■.•;.\ .A*V'X'-“' 


•\A* ' 


A A ' A a'/X Vv^OvX aK k\ oVaA k kV . O.A'! 1 kV A ,, 


vSl 

A\4Xk . 
. k' 




* , 


•: f •!» 


•k .%•• 

k " 

kXyJ.' 


X 


4 .yX 


•.*, . . , 


. ' y. S^. ^ A A., , .AV\V'- A- ' A%X\\k’ '-.AvX .'\ AA n'*.' ‘ ' '.Xkykk 

^ ;.• 4 ' 4 4 : 4 - 4 ; & 4 4 ^ v, ^ :,. ':s .;; 

y <■' •■:■;■ v ■;’ A A a' -'• A N- 1 A A' 'v 1 N' \ -A " '■ .\ .x -'A 

"A-v: - A' .:>A^A:'oA'\.\ ■ . axvAOAaa'.ax 

lAsXVi.iXj ■' v, 4 aa.v-,';',a::Xx-a-Xa'^A ^vAAxIva " 'v^A\v^^'V^A^ v.va'\ A-:. .••.•■;- •" <• "•■•'^ V.\v aX-,.-'.. n 

*.».kk' .k. k. •• 


k\ 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 


inp^rigp 
Shelf :.H 5 


o 


UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 








t 





f 







•. t 



> 










t ’• 





# 


» 


V 



r 


t 






N 


\ • 

f 


I 

• t 


* 

i • . 


» 


I 



i 


«i. 


>• 


•• 

4 





4^ 








^s\ri 


\ 





f 

\ 



* < 





1 


r 



t 




9 


t 







9 







* 





- f 

# 


t 




4 


f 


« 


I 




I 







4 



d 


s 


I 




, W 




f 

* ' s. 

t ' 






1 


. r ♦ 






4 


' t 

* 


4 





• 7 "* 


• * '• 



Tr. : ’ f-TF* 

« - 


J 


; 



« 




t 


I 




I « 





/ 


> 


t 



» 




« I 

/• • 


"^4 

, I 

b i 


A 



I 


✓ 

j 

'r; ' ;i« 




^ 






/■ » 



I. ' 



* . . 


» 






V 



1 




\ 




I 


< 


i % 

^ -i 


» 

I 

. t 


( 


* . 



I 




./ 


1 



I 

* 1^1 


I 




i 



t 



ft • 


I 




f • 


J 


* • t 


• / 
• % 




« 

t 



I 


ft I* 
T • 


4 



0 


* 


J 


ft 


♦ 





i 


c 


I 


. «»•» 




« 

• I 

N ♦ 


y * 






I 


/ 





0 








4 


% 


♦ 


«» 





« 


« 


I 





< ^ 




ft 

t 


* 










A . 


I 

r 


« 


t 


V 


4 


4 

V 


4 



I 


I 






• ' I 


'A 


i 

^ • 







A 


\ 


\ . 


I 










i 


I 










> 



? 













% 

# 





•v 






t 


4 


t 


4 

1 ! 



«1 


J 


f 




I 


' . 4 



T 



« i 





I 






\ 


#* '• 


k 


:n>- 


>-• 


» 




.• 



I 


I 


I 


Cbf O^lUloug^bn Uons. — <^ronttspucr. 


f 



How d’ye do, Blanche? So you re here ycl?” 



ODD MOMENTS 




OF THB 


Willoughby Boys. 


BY 

Mrs. EMILY HAKTLEY 


A UTHOR 


U 

O P 


} 


“ Barley Loaves,” “ Phil Derry,” “ Ruth Allerton,” 
“Christmas with the Girls,” “Christmas with 
THE Boys,” “ Hal# a Dozen Girls,” “ Half 
a Dozen Boys,” “Sandy Cameron.” 



AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION, 
No. 1122 Chestnut Street. 


New York : Nos. 8 and 10 Bible House, Astob Place. 
St. Louis: No. 207 North Sixth Street. 
Chicago: 73 Randolph St. 

r> 



/ 


Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1879, by the 
AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 




12 - 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER I. 

PAGK 

. An Evening at Pantops 7 

CHAPTER II. 

The Look-out Room 25 

CHAPTER III. 

The Family Recokd 36 

CHAPTER IV. 

Laurie’s Trouble 49 

CHAPTER V. 

Reed Remsen’s Plan...... 59 

CHAPTER VI. 

In the Laboratory 71 

CHAPTER VII. 

Edna’s Sorrowful Day i 83 

1 * ‘6 


6 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER VIIL 

PAGE 

Aunt Schenck T. 97 

CHAPTER IX. 

John 107 

CHAPTER X. 

Stocking an Aquarium 118 

CHAPTER XI. 

Scroll-Sawing 137 

CHAPTER XII. 

Professor Coleman 151 

CHAPTER XIII. . 

A Garden Talk •. 173 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Let Oft on Shares 185 

CHAPTER XV. 

Goings and Comings 207 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Express and Mail 214 


ODD MOMENTS 


OF THE 


WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


CHAPTEE I. 


AN EVENING AT PAN TOPS. 



NE jnorning the children of Questi- 


\_J ford Village were surprised on their 
way to school by the sight of large posters 
adorning fences, trees, and stone-walls in all 
directions ; one occupied a place in the win- 
dow of Miss Trimble’s toy and fancy goods 
emporium,” as its owner proudly named her 
tiny store; another was daringly pasted on 
the door of the school-house. These posters 
were evidently of home manufacture, for in- 
stead of being printed they were neatly sten- 
cilled ; also certain ornamental flourishes were 
skilfully executed in crayon. The grown peo- 
ple passing along the streets gave a glance and 


7 


8 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


smile at these strange adornments of the usu- 
ally unmeaning blankness of wall and fence. 

. The children gathered in groups before the 
various red and yellow papers, and there was 
much laughing and whistling, together with 
occasional emphatic exclamations of approval 
found only in the vocabulary of school-boys. 
The announcement was made on this wise: 

« Attention, All!’’ 

An entertainment will be given this (Tues- 
day) evening in the Pantops dining-room. 

The programme will comprise a number of 
astounding feats of Peestidigitation by the 
Prince of Conjurers, Pierrotto Willinotto. 

‘^A Panorama of Palestine, by a distin- 
guished American artist, will be displayed. 

A remarkable and extensive exhibition of 
stuffed birds and animals, by an experienced 
Taxidermist, will close the evening’s pro-, 
gramme. 

“The performance will begin precisely at 
seven o’clock. 

“Admission, five cents. No half-price 
tickets. Children are requested to bring 
their parents.” 

A feeling of respect succeeded the first im- 


AN EVENING AT PANTOPS. 


9 


pulse to ridicule in the miuds of the boys and 
girls of Questiford as soon as they came to the 
word, all in capitals, Prestidigitation.” No- 
body had the least idea of what it meant, and 
the explanation was but vaguely hinted at by 
the word Conjurers ” that followed. Pier- 
rotto Willinotto ” was but a thin disguise for 
the familiar name Pierre Willoughby, but that 
gave them no help to the understanding of the 
proposed feats. Very few among the children 
had ever seen a panorama, but they had come 
across that word in their spelling-books and 
knew that it stood for a picture of some sort. 
As to the stutfed birds and animals, that was 
plainly enough Rex’s part in the performance ; 
therefore Taxidermist ” must mean a fellow 
who spent his time in setting traps for birds, 
catching bugs, hunting for squirrels, and the 
like. 

Let’s go !” said the children to one an- 
other ; and as they turned away from the at- 
tractive posters with hasty skips and runs, lest 
they should not be in season to answer the roll- 
call, many a whispered consultation took place 
as to ways and means of procuring the five 
cents demanded for admission. 

That afternoon eager pairs of eyes that ought 


10 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


not to have wandered above slate-rims and 
atlases, glanced frequently up to the school- 
room windows to discover whether certain 
ominous clouds were likely to spoil the an- 
ticipated fun. These proved very kind, after 
all, and took themselves quite out of sight by 
the time school was dismissed. The beautiful 
harvest moon was at its full, and lighted group 
after group of youngsters on their way that 
evening up the hill and along the shady quiet 
street which terminated in Pantops, the com- 
fortable old-fashioned mansion in which al- 
ready three generations of Willoughbys had 
spent their lives. 

There was a door leading from the garden 
directly into the dining-room ; this stood hos- 
pitably open on the present occasion, and the 
lights within gave friendly greeting to all who 
approached. It was well they did so, for 
many of the young people — and the parents 
too, whom, according to the suggestion, these 
sons and daughters had brought along — had 
never been inside the walls of old Pantops. 

A mysterious curtain concealed the farther 
end of the long room, and rows of chairs filled 
the remainder. The audience gathered slowly. 
Now and then the tip of a nose was seen pro- 


AN EVENING AT PANTOPS. 


11 


trading from the other side of the curtain as one 
of the performers gave an anxious glance at the 
rows of chairs. Before the tall clock in the cor- 
ner had given forth its seven strokes every seat 
was occupied and every eye attentively fixed on 
the closed curtains. Soft music was heard in 
an adjoining room, growing gradually louder 
and then subsiding. As it died away like a 
flute in the distance the impression of awe was 
disturbed by a familiar voice shouting, Turn 
down the light, somebody there This order 
was immediately obeyed by one of the fathers 
present. The curtain rose, revealing the 
Prince of Conjurers ” standing beside a small 
table. Nobody recognized the magician. He 
was a person of medium height with black 
moustache and a heavy beard ; he wore an im- 
mense white turban and a long robe of gorge- 
ous colors. He glanced around the room, but 
spoke not a word. So busy were the majority 
of the audience in examining the dress and 
features of the wizard that the quick move- 
ments of his hands on the table were unob- 
served. Instantly a bright flash of lightning 
darted across the room. Some of the children 
screamed with terror and not a few of the older 
people moved nervously in their seats. A sec- 


12 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


ond brilliant line of light, another, and an- 
other in rapid succession, moved across the 
darkened space between the conjurer and the 
excited beholders, and then the curtain fell. 

If s one of the works of the devil, and I^m 
goin’ home.” 

This announcement was delivered in a rough, 
ill-natured tone by somebody in the back row 
of seats, and those who turned to discover who 
the speaker might be whispered to one an- 
other, ‘^Ifs only Hiram Boggs,” and forgot 
their fright in amusement. 

“ Come, Nance ! come, Sam !” said Hiram 
to his children in a loud tone; ‘‘on with your 
mittens, and lefs be ofP! Them as likes to be 
mixed up with such wickedness, let ^em stay.” 

It appeared that Nance and Sam did not 
agree with their father’s views, for they held 
back and whispered words of discontent and 
resistance; but the ignorant and bigoted old 
cobbler would not yield, but marched his son 
and daughter out of the door in haste, lest the 
curtain should rise again and reveal some other 
device of the evil one. 

The general stir and amusement caused by 
the exit of the Boggs family did much to re- 
store a feeling of comfort, and when the cur- 


AN EVENING AT PANTOPS. 


13 


tain was again lifted the first shock of terror 
had almost passed away. All eyes were at 
once directed to the dignified figure of the 
prestidigitator, who stood calmly behind his 
little table. In one hand he held an innocent- 
looking glass rod, and in the other a tea-cup. 
He coughed two or three times, as if suffering 
from a “frog in the throat,” and then, in a 
fine, squeaky voice, addressed the company. 

“ My friends,” said he, “ I notice that con- 
siderable alarm was felt at the lightning-flashes 
which I caused by the secrets of my art to 
pass across the room. I must assure you that, 
however wonderful these feats of prestidigi- 
tation may appear, there is no danger to be 
feared from them — not the least. Also,” and 
there was a twinkle in the speaker’s eyes, “ I 
hope you will believe that I am not in part- 
nership with the devil, as one of the audience 
gave me credit for.” 

A general laughing and stamping of feet 
interrupted the speaker. The joke was com- 
pletely turned on old Hiram Boggs, each one 
forgetting his own share in the fright. Then 
a big boy, who thought the applause had lasted 
long enough and was impatient for the enter- 
tainment to proceed, called out, 

2 


14 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


We’ll trust you, Pierrottd Whatever-your- 
nanie-is; so go ahead.” 

Before the last word was uttered the magi-, 
dan caught up a stick which had lain unob- 
served on the floor beside him and waved it 
violently. This caused a sudden hush, and 
with a loud voice, in which the assumed 
squeakiness was quite forgotten, the wizard 
pronounced the strange incantation, Cassa- 
felto, presto, aldiborontiphoskiphorniosticos !” 
and instantly the whole room was filled with 
such a brilliant illumination that many of the 
girls hid their eyes behind their handkerchiefs. 
Nobody seemed to be watching the perform- 
ance very closely to discover how the start- 
ling effect was produced — ^nobody, that is, but 
one long-limbed boy in the front row of seats, 
who leaned forward and gazed eagerly at every 
motion of the turbaned magician. He noticed 
that the glass rod was placed in the tea-cup 
for an instant — that was all ; but how could so 
simple an act produce so remarkable an effect ? 

“ Now, ladies and gentlemen,” proceeded 
the wizard, we will try an experiment in col- 
oring. I have here, as you see, some liquid 
of a bright blue; certain articles dipped in 
this will be changed to bright red.” 


AN EVENING AT PANTO PS. 15 

0 

He held up a tube as he spoke, which, as 
all could see, contained something blue. 

Will some one lend me a knife 

A dozen knives, of as many sorts and sizes, 
were immediately held up. The long-limbed 
boy in the front seat collected them and laid 
them on the table beside the conjurer. 

" One will do,’^ said the professor of magic ; 
and selecting one with a long thin blade he 
plunged it into the blue water, as it seemed to 
be, waited a few moments, and then held it up 
before the expectant eyes of the crowd, a 
bright red. 

Young man, will that 'ere paint come olf?’' 
called out the owner of the knife anxiously. 

By way of answer the magician took a 
piece of paper from his pocket, wiped the 
blade and rubbed it, then handed it back as 
bright as before. 

‘^Well, I never! that does beat all!” re- 
marked the man, greatly relieved in mind. 

After this a box was passed around for ex- 
amination, and after being thoroughly looked 
at, felt of, turned upside down, and knocked 
to discover any secret spring, was returned to 
its owner with the verdict that it was an empty 
box and nothing more. 


16 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


^^Nevertheless, I shall proceed to take from 
it a few articles to show you,^^ said the profes- 
sor of mystery. 

A shout of applause rang through the apart- 
ment when with thumb and forefinger the pres- 
tidigitator drew from the empty box several 
roses, some pictures, a handful of pop-corn, 
and a silk handkerchief. The long-legged 
boy nearly lost his balance as he leaned for- 
ward, eagerly enjoying the mystery. When 
the noise had subsided, Pierrotto Willinotto 
gracefully bowed his turbaned head to the au- 
dience, thanked them for their kind apprecia- 
tion of his humble efforts, and said that he 
W’ould now give place to the artist whose 
panorama had been announced. The curtain 
dropped, but the cheers went on, the walls of 
old Pantops fairly shaking with the unwonted 
sounds of shuffling, stamping, clapping, and 
whistling. Certainly, the magician had reason 
to be satisfied with his reception by a Questi- 
ford audience. 

When the curtain rose again the small table 
had disappeared, and in place of the gorgeous- 
ly-robed prestidigitator stood a slender boy of 
thirteen in his every-day suit of corduroys; 
his big brown eyes took a timid survey of the 


\ 


AN EVENING AT PANTOPS. 17 

audience, and the nervous tremble in the fin- 
gers with which he tossed back the obstinate 
lock from his forehead which teasing girls 
called his “bang/' showed that the “distin- 
guished American artist” was not accustomed 
to appearing in public. While Laurence Wil- 
loughby stood trying to control his bang and 
to clear his throat ready for speaking, the in- 
terested spectators had full opportunity for ex- 
amining the new arrangements for their enter- 
tainment. The room being now quite dark, 
the little platform shone brilliantly. There 
was a neatly-covered stand that was not in- 
tended to betray itself as a common packing- 
box, and did not to the uncritical eyes of the 
youngsters in front. The*se simple Questiford 
boys and girls, like all unspoiled, natural chil- 
dren, had imaginations that overlooked the 
prosy realities around them, and believed that 
when a few bits of broken crockery were set 
up for a china tea-set, they were a china tea- 
set, and nothing short of it ; when a fragment 
of tin, picked up from the refuse heap behind 
the tin-shop was decided to be a silver knife, 
a silver knife it certainly was, and woe to the 
rude scoffer who should dare to say that it was 
only a strip of tin ! To the eyes of this assem- 

2 * B 


18 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


bly, therefore, the dry-goods box, festooned 
about with Edna Willoughby’s cast-off wrap- 
per, was an elegant and appropriate piece of 
furniture. 

Upon this stand rested a pretty construction 
of pasteboard and paint, a tiny proscenium 
with curtain and footlights, and through this, 
as in the distance, appeared a picture. Lau- 
rence had now found his voice ; with his be- 
loved panorama before him, over whose con- 
struction he had spent every leisure hour for 
weeks past, he became unconscious of the pres- 
ence of others except as a set of eyes to enjoy 
with him the wonders of his ingenious toy. 

The view before us,” began the young ar- 
tist, “ is one we all know, or ought to ; it isn’t 
long since we had it in our Sunday-school les- 
sons — not the picture, but about the things 
that happened near this very spot. That’s 
the Red Sea, ladies and gentlemen.” 

Laurence drew himself up and turned 
toward the spectators, waving the pointer he 
held with a gesture of delight. 

“ This is the point,” he continued, where 
the Israelites crossed the Red Sea on their 
way toward the Promised Land. As the 
panorama moves along you will see next 


AN EVENING AT PANTOPS. 


19 


Mount Serbal, where it is supposed that Moses 
struck the rock when God had only told him 
to speak to it.’^ 

While Laurence proceeded thus to name and 
explain the scenes presented the pictures slow- 
ly moved on, each giving place to another in 
a way very surprising to the children and 
some of the parents present. Meanwhile, the 
music, which had added to the attractiveness 
of the first part of the entertainment, now 
enhanced the charm of the panoramic dis- 
play. No /)ne could guess whence or how 
the sweet harmony was produced, for the Wil- 
loughbys had admitted no one into the secret 
of their arrangements, but a glance into the 
little apartment behind the dining-room would 
have revealed Edna seated at her cabinet-or- 
gan, where she could distinctly hear Laurence’s 
voice and know when to play and when to keep 
silence. 

As the pretty pictures succeeded one an- 
other there was a noiseless attention; and 
that instruction was given by the ingenious 
little panorama was testified by the allusions 
made in Questiford Sunday-school from time 
to time afterward to Laurence Willoughby’s 
picture of this or that Bible locality. 


20 


THE WII.LOUGHBY BOYS. 


All this had occupied considerable time. 
The fathers were beginning to draw out big sil- 
ver watches, and the younger children to yawn 
and lean against convenient shoulders, for in 
that old-fashioned, sedate village 

“ Early to bed and early to rise 
Makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise ” 

was a motto proved as Macaulay says — 
in effect — by the enormous fortunes acquir- 
ed by chimney-sweeps and chamber-maids’^)' 
faithfully observed. The drowsy ones lost 
several of the last views, to ' the annoyance 
of the young artist, wlio had bestowed es- 
pecial care on his representations of Jerusa- 
lem and its vicinity, with which the dispjay 
ended. There was a pretty thorough rousing 
up, however, when, after the pause of a few 
moments, the curtain rose for the last time and 
revealed a small domestic menagerie of stuffed 
creatures, wild and tame, in the midst of which 
shone like a full moon the merry round face 
of Rex Willoughby. A general clapping of 
hands greeted the favorite of Questiford 
school, in return for which Rex bowed to right 
and left, then taking a step backward gave a 
long low whistle. Instantly a large handsome 


AN EVENING AT PANTOPS. 


21 


dog sprang forward, and at a- signal from his 
master made a bow also to the audience. 
Every child present was acquainted with 
Rex Willoughby^s Victor, for he frequently 
followed the boy to school, carrying his basket 
of luncheon, and not unfrequently came dash- 
ing in during recitations either with some ar- 
ticle Rex had forgotten or a note from his 
sister. All admired the wise and alfectionate 
creature. 

On this occasion Victor surprised his friends 
by certain unexpected accomplishments. At 
the shot of a pop-gun he fell heavily on the 
floor, closed his eyes and played dead,^’ not 
moving a muscle even when Rex gave him a 
kick, but when bidden “ Come to life, sir the 
stiff limbs relaxed and with one great shake 
Victor was himself again. !Next Rex offered 
him a toy gun, put a soldier-cap on his head, 
and he went through a regular drill as well as 
any boy in the room could have done. The 
delight of the children was unbounded when, 
placing a row of alphabet-blocks before the 
sensible animal, Rex ordered him to spell 
‘‘boy,” ^‘pig/’ and “gun,” and Victor put his 
paw cautiously oh the different leffers. No one 
was near enough to be sure that the spelling 


22 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


was correct, but* who could doubt Rex’s asser- 
tion that it was all right or insult Victor’s 
dignity by supposing he had made a mis- 
take ? 

The dog, having completed his share in the' 
evening’s entertainment, bounded into the 
midst of the audience and snuffed about in 
search of his special friends. . Pats and com- 
pliments were given him in abundance^ and 
when he finally rested on his haunches beside 
the long-legged boy in the front row of seats 
his dignified bearing showed that he, at least, 
considered Victor Willoughby the hero of the 
hour. 

^^Any of you fellows that would like to 
look at my stuffed animals — There ! I meant 
to say ladies and gentlemen,” blundered forth 
the showman in some confusion — please come 
this way.” 

Glad of an opportunity for moving their 
restless limbs, the juvenile portion of the au- 
dience quickly left their seats and scrambled to 
the front. All restraint was now laid aside, 
and the children made numberless comments 
on the exhibition before them, Rex all the 
while marching proudly up and down, his ’ 
hands in his pockets and an expression of 


AN EVENING AT PANTOPS. 


23 


comfortable self-approval on his rosy face that 
matched well with Victor’s self-satisfied ap- 
pearance. 

Hands off, please, Susie !” called out Rex 
to a little girl who was examining with her 
fingers the mauner in which a stuffed bird was 
attached to a branch. That’s a jay, one of 
the prettiest I ever saw, and I caught him 
righ^ over here in Baker’s Woods.” 

That ?” said he, turning sharply round to 
answer the question of a boy of his own size. 

Oh that’s the very squirrel. Bob, that got me 
into trouble last spring. Don’t you remem- 
ber the day I was late to school, and Miss 
Moore kept me in all recess and an hour after 
school? I had gone off without any break- 
fast, and had tired myself all out racing after 
that squirrel. I wouldn’t give him up, he 
was such a beauty, but I didn’t bargain to 
stand in the middle of the floor all day, lose 
my dinner, and get a bad mark too.” 

^^Yes, his tail was hanging out of your 
pocket, and the girls said you had been steal- 
ing your sister’s furs.” 

An owl, a guinea-pig, a hare were recog- 
nized as familiar objects by the children, and 
duly admired, while some specimens of the 


24 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


taxidermist’s art which had cost the young 
naturalist most trouble were passed over with 
indifference, and a case of butterflies, Rex’s 
special pride and delight, was scarcely noticed 
at all. 

There was no definite moment of closing 
the entertainment ; all were at liberty to remain 
as long as they liked, examining Rex’s ingeni- 
ous work. Sleepiness had, however, taken the 
place of enthusiasm with most of the small 
folk, and in groups of twos and threes they 
left the room, satisfied that they had received 
a full equivalent for their entrance fee of five 
cents, and with increased wonder at, and ad- 
miration for, the smartness of the Willoughby 
boys. 


I 




CHAPTER II. 


THE LOOK-OUT ROOM. 

N these days one great trouble with clothes 



JL and with houses, as well as with the people 
who wear the former and live in the latter, is, 
that they are all alike. Fashion decides the 
color and texture and shape of our garments, 
so that in a crowd it is sometimes difficult to 
tell one’s sister from an utter stranger; fash- 
ion also models our dwellings, so that before 
entering a house we know beyond a doubt just 
where to put our hand on the knob of the par- 
lor-door and the relative position of all the 
other rooms. Happily, it cannot be said as 
certainly that one knows beforehand what 
will be done and said by the people living 
in the house; but the assertion is often too 
nearly possible to be flattering to human na- 
ture, which holds individuality as one of its 
chief marks of superiority to the rest of cre- 


ation. 


3 


25 


26 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


Old Pantops was a marked exception to this 
humiliating rule of modern houses. The fine 
old oaks that guarded its entrance answered 
the purpose of a door-plate giving the family 
name, for the Willoughby oaks” wei*e known* 
even beyond the limits of Questiford, and their 
gnarled branches were thought by certain im- 
aginative young people to form the initials R. 
W.,” in honor, it may be presumed, of the first 
of the family who resided there — Reginald Wil- 
loughby, whose name the youngest member of 
the present generation of Willoughbys bore. 
The house itself could n.ot have been the out- 
growth of any definite plan in the builder’s 
mind. The rooms stood side by side, or 
looked across at one another with friendly 
surprise at meeting, much like a very social 
gathering where one and another ‘Mrops in” 
without ceremony; and there were endless 
possibilities of getting lost among the twisted 
little passages from which doors opened upon 
unexpected closets and rooms. This feature 
of the Pan tops homestead made it particularly 
charming to young visitors from the city, who 
now and then came for a summer frolic to its 
cool, shady retirement. 

The young Willoughbys had grown up with 


THE LOOK-OUT ROOM. 


27 


a love for every nook and corner of the house 
quite incomprehensible to those who pass their 
lives in rented dwellings and move every few 
years. The knots in the boards of the garret- 
floor had been named from their shapes by the 
children who had grown to be grandparents, 
and were known now as ^^the dipper,’^ ^‘the 
looking-glass,” ^Hhe old woman with a night- 
cap,” and so on. The play-room, now fallen 
into disuse because of the advancing years of 
its owners, still kept its familiar nomenclature. 
When Auntie Blanche, the dear old colored ser- 
vant and friend, found her way to this cherished 
spot on her regular cleaning-days, she seldom 
failed to be warned not to disturb Rosabeks 
bedstead, not to let the dust settle on the 
grotto, not to meddle with Robinson Cru- 
soe’s island or the enchanted palace. Auntie 
Blanche always listened with serious attention 
and nodded her bright kerchiefed head, then 
hobbled off* to her work. The respect which 
the old dolls and their belongings received at 
her hands would have been turned to ridicule 
by .a younger housemaid who had not grown 
familiar with every article used by ^‘dem 
blessed chil’en” since the first rattle and rag 
doll of their babyhood. 


28 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


The bedrooms of this unfashionable house 
were not pretty according to our present idea 
of prettiness. In lieu of light and graceful 
articles that could easily be lifted about were 
bureaus, tables, wardrobes of quaintly-carved 
mahogany, whose great claw feet might have 
sunk into the floor with their Arm grip, for 
all possibility there seemed of moving them. 
The chairs were stately things with straight 
backs, that told of days when children were 
not allowed to lounge at their ease and even 
aged ladies sat erect and witliout leaning back. 
The embroidered roses on some of these looked 
faded enough to make one wish they had a “time 
to fall’^ to pieces like real flowers, and sundry 
kittens and puppies reposing on cushions were 
now mere dingy blotches on the canvas. There 
was something pathetic about this Pantops em- 
broidery worked by the patient fingers of great- 
aunts and grandmothers so long at rest. Brass 
knobs glittered in every direction, as brilliant 
now, through Auntie Blanche’s faithful rub- 
bing, as when they were new. Over the high 
mantels hung portraits of the very ladies who 
had embroidered the roses, kittens, and pup- 
pies, and of the gentlemen who perhaps read 
aloud or talked pleasant nonsense to them 


THE LOOK-OUT EOOM. 29 

M’liile their fingers flew among the bright 
wools. 

The parlor was the most modern room of 
the house. There Edna’s piano had replaced 
her grandmother’s harpsichord, and many fan- 
cies of present taste had brightened up the 
apartment. The great mirror had once re- 
flected the picture of a tomb over which hung 
a weeping willow, and on either side of this 
sad ornament a massive silver candelabrum 
filled with tall wax candles of many colors. 
Now a popular engraving in bright new frame 
was repeated in the glass, and a pair of charm- 
ing vases, brought from a New York store as 
lately as Edna’s last birthday, held the places 
once sacred to the time-honored candelabra. 
There were many trifles scattered about, mark- 
ing the room as the property of the present 
generation much more obviously than any 
change of furniture. The newest pattern of 
tidies covered the old chairs ; new music lay 
on the piano; the latest novelty in mats 
stretched itself before the door. It was a 
pleasant place, this parlor, holding just such 
a combination of past and present as to bright- 
en the one into living cheerfulness and to give 
a touch of sentiment to the other. 


30 THR^WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 

But it is high time for us to close the par- 
lor-door, hasten up stairs, open a door to the 
left of the landing, step cautiously along the 
winding passage, ascend another stair, and lift 
the latch of the Look-out Boom. It has taken 
a long while to get to the place indicated at 
the head of the chapter, for Pantops is not 
a house to be rushed through in disrespect- 
ful haste. 

This is a large apartment, and it has need to 
be, for it is, for this generation of Willough- 
bys, the very heart of the house. It is a well- 
lighted room ; and that also it has need to be, 
for here the three brothers and one sister work 
away at their special interests and undertakings, 
and each needs window-room of his and her 
very own. The carpet covering the wide floor 
is patched and faded in streaks, for it has done 
a deal of service in its day, and now, in its last 
estate, the best parts of the best breadths, that 
formerly were protected from light and wear 
by large pieces of furniture standing over them 
when they covered parlor and library floors, 
have come to receive the wear and tear and 
homely uses of the Look-out Boom. The dor- 
mer-windows, staring like great eyes on each 
side of the sloping roof, kept watch like the 


THE LOOK-OUT ROOM. 


31 


fabled giant Argus, over all that went on for 
a circuit of several miles. A storm might be 
on its way from whatever direction it would, its 
movements could not be hidden from watchers 
in the Look-out Room. The sowing and the 
reaping in many fields had been looked upon 
with interest through successive seasons by 
one generation of Willoughby children after 
another, and no coming guest could approach 
the house unannounced if one of the family 
happened to be in this room at the time. 

It mus't not be supposed that our young 
people kept each his particular window for the 
sake of observing the occurrences of the world 
outside. They were far too busy for that, and 
in this very respect utterly unlike their an- 
cestor, the former Reginald, an idle, dreamy 
man, who had planned this apartment for a 
sort of observatory, whence, lying at his ease 
on his sofa and smoking his favorite meer- 
schaum, he could survey the field and woods 
on every side. Hence came the name bestow- 
ed on the place itself — Pantops,” far-seeing. 

The west window commanded a view of the 
village. The hill upon whose summit stood 
the home of the Willoughbys sloped gradu- 
ally down — so gradually that all Questiford 


32 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


was built on an inclined plane. Its natural 
beauty was^ considerable, but most of the 
dwellings were poor and unattractive, and even 
those of the better sort had no greater merit 
than the white paint and green blinds which 
betokened gentility to the Questiford mind. 
At this west window stood a plain, substan- 
tial desk, such as had done service in many 
a school-room. This one, with its blots and 
scratches, looked as if it might have had years 
of hard usage in that very way. This was 
Edna’s boudoir. Here she sat day after day, 
devoting her leisure hours to thinking out, and 
then' rapidly writing, stories and poems for 
little children. It was her . one ambition to 
reach the hearts of boys or girls by these 
written words. So shy she was, this grown 
woman of twenty years, that she would turn 
a corner of the street in her walks if she 
found herself on the point of meeting one 
of those very boys or girls whose pleasure 
she had in view when busy with her pen. No 
one outside the family circle knew that she as- 
pired to be an authoress. It was fame enough 
for her when the boys would hurrah over 
the appearance of one of her stories or little 
poems in a child’s paper, and Auntie Blanche’s 


THE LOOK-OUT ROOM. 


33 


old black face would shine with delight at the 
wunnerful smart pieces ’’ her young missy ” 
made up. At this time-worn desk Edna loved 
to sit when the glory of sunset fell upon the 
homely little houses and gave poetic signifi- 
cance to the common flower-gardens, the back- 
yards with their clothes-lines and bleaching- 
grounds, the cows coming home to be milked, 
the children playing . ball or tag, kite or mar- 
bles, as the season might dictate. From these 
prosaic scenes grew, budded, and flowered 
many pleasant fancies, which, when duly set 
forth upon the printed page, started kind- 
ly thoughts and noble aspirations in young 
minds hundreds of miles distant from the 
quiet dreamer in the Pantops Look-out. 

Directly opposite Edna’s desk, and blocking 
up the lower panes of the east window, stood 
a set of shelves that years ago had filled a re- 
cess in the library and been filled with valu- 
able books. Now it held a curious collection 
of bottles, tea-cups discarded from household 
use,, glasses and tubes and bits of rag ; in fact, 
a perfect medley. Nobody was ever allowed 
to touch these shelves with even a finger, to 
say nothing of dust-cloth or scrubbing-brush. 
In vain did Auntie Blanche entreat and scold 
c 


34 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


by turns; “ Marse Pierre’^ would have his 
side of the room left sacred to disorder and 
science. 

The north window afforded a near view of 
a picturesque little stream spanned by a rustic 
bridge, the work of the Willoughby brothers 
in holiday hours. In the distance the stream 
lost its way in the woods, beyond which rose a, 
succession of hills, not bold enough to make 
the landscape a striking one, but sufficiently 
high and irregular in outline to furnish many 
a study to the young artist whose nook this 
w^as. Here stood the table, with its color-box 
and case of pencils, at which Laurence spent 
his odd moments. The one deep drawer of 
the table held many sketches, most of them 
in pencil, but a few careful studies in water- 
color. In striking contrast to Pierre’s shelves, 
everything in Laurie’s studio ” was neat and 
orderly, as befitted the spot devoted to the cul- 
ture of the beautiful. 

The same, alas! could not be said of the 
south side of the Look-out. Rex, poor boy ! 
had frequent contentions — “ rows,” he called 
them — with neat old Auntie Blanche, and 
even with his quiet sister Edna, on account 
of the disorder, dirt, and foul smells that 


THE. LOOK-OUT ROOM. 


35 


cliaracterized his share of the common work- 
room. It was well for everybody concerned 
that close beside Rex’s window a door opened 
on the back stairs, so that the rule could in 
some measure be enforced that all the dirty 
work pertaining to the taxidermic art should 
be performed out of sight and smell of the 
rest of the family. A good-sized pine box 
stood up against the window, containing no- 
body but its owner knew what; two large 
brackets, one on either side, held cases . of 
stuffed birds, while the skins of two or three 
small animals hung on the wall beneath these. 
Rex had his table also ; it stood in front of 
the window, but out from it a little, so that he 
could sit on the box while he worked upon it. 
Bits of wire and wool were always scattered 
about on this table, to say nothing of spots of 
blood, feathers, and other unpleasant sugges- 
tions of Rex’s occupation. A large and val- 
uable work on natural history, that should 
have kept its place among the other books 
down stairs, was generally to be seen, with 
its bethumbed leaves spread open, either on or 
under this table. 


CHAPTER III. 

THE FAMILY RECORD. 

T he Pantops library was a gloomy room, 
darkened on the outside by trees planted 
too near the house, and inside by heavy cur- 
tains whose original hue was now a matter of 
uncertainty. Its high cases w’ere filled with 
volumes dating back, for the most part, to years 
before the birth of the young people with whom 
our story has to do. Old law-books ; Jose- 
phus; odd volumes of a commentary; Mil- 
ton in faded binding and' very yellow paper, 
printed with the long /^s of bygone-times; a 
few collections of poetry ; a dozen novels of 
the romantic style of the past, which even 
the most sentimental young girl of to-day 
would fall asleep over; several rusty-looking 
annuals, side by side with dictionaries and 
worn-out, school-books, — these formed the 
stock of literary treasures hidden away in the 
neglected library. Now and then, in her lone- 
36 


THE FAMILY RECORD. 


37 . 


ly hours, while the boys were absent, Edna 
would steal into the dingy room and glance 
over the well-worn books that had been fa- 
miliar companions of one and another of 
those relatives whose pictured faces gazed 
down upon her from the walls of various 
rooms. A glance was all she cared to give 
to any save one large volume bound strong- 
ly in calf-skin. With this under her arm she 
would often come out of the library, run up 
stairs to the Look-out Room, and, seated in 
her low rocking-chair by the west window, 
pore over its contents with an interest that 
often brought a glow of excitement to her 
cheeks or tears to her eyes. 

This book was a Record of the Willough- 
by Family.’^ It had been begun by Edna^s 
grandfather when he was a boy in his teens. 
The first pages, in stiff, angular characters, 
made almost illegible by many flourishes and 
the discoloring work of time on ink and 
paper, told the story of his race from the 
period of their leaving their noble English 
estate to settle in the wilderness of America. 
The various struggles passed through, the 
births, marriages, and deaths, all given as 
bare statistics, were by Edna’s ready imagi- 

4 


38 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


nation seized as material for weaving a glow- 
ing romance. Indeed, the entire record was 
to her little more than a charming novel, un- 
til, passing over pages in ink of every shade and 
handwriting of every style, she came to the 
neat penmanship of her own mother. Here 
she read a description of Pantops as it appear- 
ed to the eyes of that mother when she came 
to it as a bride. In these pages her father fig- 
ured as a hero without a fault. From other 
sources Edna had come to fear that he had 
possessed his share of human failings : it was 
far pleasanter to accept this charming por- 
trait of him. Then came accounts of little 
journeys taken, dinner-parties, household 
plans ; then the date of her own birth, with 
loving descriptions of her baby perfections — 
the day on which she had cut her first tooth, 
the date of the first step taken alone, and 
many other matters which, only a young 
mother would take the trouble to note. 

After this the entries .grew shorter and more 
formal, for when the next baby came, sickened, 
and died there had been little leisure for Mrs. 
"Willoughby to devote to the record. From 
time to time a line or two in bolder characters 
interrupted the dainty monotony of the young 


THE FAMILY RECORD. 


39 


mother’s entries. These were statements of 
money-losses sometimes ; of plans that never 
had been carried out; the dates of birth of 
Pierre, Laurence, and E-ex. In between came 
the mother’s affectionate accounts of each baby’s 
wonderful accomplishments, of pretty garments 
worn by them. After Eex’s first year came a 
blank ; the history passed from the hands of 
the loving mother, and two lines by her hus- 
band announced her death : 

^^At Pantops, June 20th, 18 — , passed into 
life eternal Helen Willoughby, aged twenty- 
eight years.” 

Here was Edna’s regular stopping-place for 
a cry. It was so pitiful, the thought of her 
mother, still young, leaving the home where 
she was so much needed, the little children so 
helpless and dependent On her. Edna’s mem- 
ory could fill up the blanks in the family 
story after this. There were a few entries in 
the old book stating in a business-like way 
the engagement or discharge of a servant, the 
date of certain repairs. These were made 
chiefly by an aunt of the young Willoughbys, 
who had several years back married a widower 
with one son and removed to some distant 
Western village. Edna never liked to dwell 


40 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


on the period of childhood between hei moth- 
er’s death and this aunt’s marriage. She liad 
a painful memory of a long list of rules that 
she was for ever breaking, of long scoldings 
that took the place of pleasant nursery-songs, 
and a sense of restraint where all had been 
happy freedom. It had been a blessed da^ 
for Edna and her little brothers when Aunt 
Eliza had formally committed the family to 
the care of dear old Auntie Blanche, saying 
that if things did come to wreck and ruin 
now, her conscience was clear ; she had done 
her duty by Henry’s children long enough ; 
they must learn to shift for themselves. Ed- 
na had been terrified by this grim speech, and 
the equally grim look on her aunt’s face as 
she stood in the doorway and kissed them all 
around ; she remembered how she had hid her 
face in Auntie Blanche’s ample skirt and 
screamed as the stiff gray silk dress of the 
bride rustled along the path to the carriage 
in which she was borne away from Pan tops. 

Happy days succeeded. Auntie Blanche, 
with a single little maid to assist her, man- 
aged the establishment. Mr. Willoughby shut 
himself in the library, and was never seen by the 
children excej)t at meals. Nobody ^vas troubled 


THE FAMILY RECORD. 


41 


by that, for he had never put himself on famil- 
iar terms with his family. Edna could remem- 
ber that her pretty dresses w^ere hung away in 
the closets after this, that her hair was seldom 
curled, and her apron often sticky with little 
rills of molasses — that her brothers also went 
looking little better than the common chil- 
dren of the village. That mattered nothing; 
they had such good times romping out of 
doors in fine weather, and through the great 
house at their pleasure when it stormed. 
Auntie Blanche knew how to make them 
happy; what mattered anything else? 

After a time Edna went to the village 
school ; that was a great and not wholly wel- 
come change. Its importance as an event sank 
into insignificance, however, by the speedy fol- 
lowing of a much greater one — namely, her 
father’s death. In itself, the loss of a parent 
who manifested so little interest in his chil- 
dren was not so great a sorrow, but it broke 
up the free, joyous life of the children under 
Auntie Blanche’s charge. There was a gen- 
eral upsetting of things. People came to the 
house — relations Edna now supposed they must 
have been. They scolded Auntie Blanche and 
cried over the children; they made a fuss, which 


42 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


even in her little girlhood Edna hated. They 
had sewing-women there who made numer- 
ous black garments, and these were put upon 
her sorely against her will. Then trunks were 
packed, and the child, lonely and sore-hearted 
enough, was sent away to boarding-school, 
while a nursery-governess was engaged for 
the boys. Auntie Blanche’s authority after 
this was limited to household affairs. 

Except during brief vacations after this, 
Edna saw nothing of home and brothers until 
she was sixteen. Then it was announced to 
her in a letter from her guardian that it was 
the wish of the late Mr. Willoughby that at this 
age she should return to Pantops and assume 
the charge of the family. Edna obeyed joy- 
fully. Years afterward she realized what a 
burden of responsibility she liad taken upon 
herself; but at sixteen who understands the 
full meaning of responsibility? and with a 
sewing-machine, a new cook-book, and Auntie 
Blanche what could she not do ? 

The date of her return had been duly noted 
in the family record ; it was to be the commence- 
ment of a new era. A few pathetic entries after 
that from time to time showed that there w^ere 
difficulties in the way of the young housekeeper 


THE FAMILY RECORD. 


43 


that even the possession of cook-book, sewing- 
machine, and Auntie Blanche could not unravel. 
Tear-blisters on the pages spoke louder than 
the words among which they formed a sort 
of archipelago. Things did not always go 
smoothly; the old housekeeper was obstinate 
in her ways, and would laugh scornfully at 
the innovations of young missy Never 
heern tell o’ no such doin’s in my day, chile,” 
was the frequent comment on Edna’s practical 
application of theories learned from books; and 
with quiet obstinacy the old woman held to her 
own way. In spite of all, Edna gradually im- 
proved the appearance of the house. One of 
her special plans had been the fitting up of 
the Look-out Room for her brothers and her- 
self, in which to spend their odd moments 
with profit by improving each one his par- 
ticular talent. 

At the period at which this story takes up 
the lives of the Pantops family they were a 
busy set of young people, and ‘^odd moments” 
were scarce. The will of Henry Willoughby 
had been one of the wisest deeds of a notably 
unwise man. The remnant of property which 
he had not lived quite long enough to squander 
had by this will been divided equally among the 


44 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


four children, except that in addition to her 
portion the old homestead was given to Edna. 
Each boy received an annual sum liberal 
enough to meet all expenses of a good educa- 
tion up to the age of twelve. At that time 
they were expected to leave school and go to 
work. No appropriation was made for them 
from that time until they each reached his 
twenty-first year; meanwhile, they were to 
support themselves. Thus it came about that 
Pierre, now a little more than fifteen, was de- 
pendent on the salary he earned as clerk in the 
Questiford drug-store; Laurence, the artist- 
boy, to whom ordinary work was the sorest 
evil under the sun, had lately been driven by 
the terms of this inflexible will to undertake 
the duties of an office-boy at the printing- 
office of the Questiford News; Reginald, hap- 
py fellow! being only ten years old, had a 
long stretch still before him of peaceful study, 
and plenty of time — ^so reasoned his older broth- 
ers — to pursue his own schemes of happiness. 
These, to Rex, were long rambles in the woods 
at any hour, in any weather, in pursuit of ani- 
mals, birds, and insects, either to catch and 
tame or kill and stuff, or, in more generous 
moods, only to study their ways of life. 


THE FAMILY RECORD. 


45 


As a family the Willoughbys kept very^ 
much to themselves ; in consequence of this 
Questiford people considered them proud — 
“ stuck up/^ as they expressed it. This cen- 
sure was wholly unfounded; pride had no 
part in the composition of meek Edna Wil- 
loughby, and the boys’ indifference to the so- 
ciety of others of their age resulted from the 
fulness of their lives, the all-absorbing inter- 
ests which clustered around their home-life. 
While each had his special hobby, he was 
sure of the thorough sympathy and help of 
the rest of the family, from Edna to Auntie 
Blanche ; and with such friends to encourage 
and aid these young people were quite inde- 
pendent of outside society. Rex, being a 
school-boy and a merry, social fellow, had a 
troop of friends. These, however^ rarely ven- 
tured to visit him at his home. The most 
intimate companion of the boys was Reed 
Remsen, the long-legged, awkward fellow who 
had on the evening of the Pantops entertain- 
ment shown such eager interest in the per- 
formance. Reed’s father was the blacksmith 
of Questiford ; the boy worked in the shop — 
if his feeble exertions could be called work — 
and was expected, in course of time, to sue- 


46 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


ceed to the hard labor and sure gains of that 
useful vocation. 

Industry, however, was not one of Reed’s 
virtues : he hated toil of every kind, but 
especially that sort which Providence pointed 
out as the reasonable and natural sort for him 
to do. He enjoyed slipping out of the shop 
every chance he found to the little stream be- 
hind it to fish. His chosen position was a 
knoll commanding a view of the busiest part 
of the long village street, and his eyes were 
ever on the watch for one of the Willoughbys. 
He knew to the moment when Rex would be 
out at recess ; he kept a sharp lookout on the 
door of the drug-store when it came near the 
hour for Pierre to be free to go home to din- 
ner ; and was always at hand with his “ Hallo, 
Laurie! where to now?” whenever and wher- 
ever the young printer chanced to show him- 
self when business called him from place to 
place. If by accident Reed failed to get sight 
of the boys at the time expected, he occupied 
his too abundant leisure by strolling toward 
Pantops to inquire for them. This habit used 
to annoy Edna — that is, in the early days of 
this one-sided intimacy — for it was Reed’s 
habit to go through the house from room to 


THE FAMILY RECORD. 


47 


room until he found some one, and not unfre- 
quently she had stopped in the midst of her 
practice or sewing, startled by the sudden ap- 
parition of the lanky fellow standing in the 
doorway. Worse still, she had repeatedly 
been at her desk in the Look-out Room, com- 
pletely engrossed in the story that was growing 
under her fingers, when a warning ^‘Ahem!’’ 
w'ould make her jump back to present real- 
ities in painful haste to discover Reed gazing 
at her with amused wonder and with the un- 
varied question on his lips, Where are the 
boys In vain she and Auntie Blanche had 
endeavored to teach the lad better manners 
by polite hints ; Reed, unaccustomed to such 
courteous treatment as mere hints that he was 
not wanted, took all in good part, and kept 
on his way in happy ignorance that others did 
not enjoy his visits as much as he did. At last 
Edna had to give up in despair and accept 
Reed as a necessary evil ; she learned to let 
him come and go just as Victor did, and to 
continue her occupation without heeding his 
presence. This exactly suited Reed : the only 
person it failed to suit was Reed’s father. 

Them Willoughbys fairly ’witch the boy,” 
complained the blacksmith to his cronies. 


48 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


^^His head gets chock full of picturs and 
chemycales and such like, and he’s no more 
use in the shop than the fifth wheel of a 
coach.” Words of comfort were sometimes 
offered in response to such remarks, to the 
effect that Reed was in good company and 
might pick up useful learning. This was not 
old Robby Remsen’s way of looking at things. 
‘'^ What,” he would retort, “did learning and 
gran’ notions ever do for the father of these 
’ere Willoughbys, or their gran’ther either? 
No, give me the fellow that can roll up his 
sleeves and work; that’s better than all your 
learning, a hundred times.” 

Time as it passed on showed more and more 
plainly that opinions do not descend from fa- 
ther to son by any law of inheritance. Reed 
became more and more the humble admirer 
of his friends at Pantops — his father more and 
more disheartened with his only son’s indif- 
ference to the honorable work of the black- 
smith. 


CHAPTER IV. 


LAURIE^ S TROUBLE. 

A mong the occupants of the Look-out 
Room there existed a convenient cus- 
tom of naming each his own window and ad- 
jacent territory, and speaking of it as if it 
were a separate apartment. The united in- 
terests of the family centred now on one side 
of the room and now on another. Previous 
to the entertainment given by the brothers the 
evenings and odd moments during the day had 
fourfd an eager group assembled in the Labor- 
atory, called less pretentiously Pierre’s side.” 
The experiments with which Pierrotto Willi- 
notto” puzzled the simple^folk of Questiford 
on that occasion had all to be carefully tested 
beforehand, and the whole family, even to 
Auntie Blanche, were required to witness and 
criticise the young magician’s scientific tricks 
before a larger audience should pass judgment 
upon them, Reed Remsen seldom failing to 

5 D 49 


50 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


make one of the company and to distract 
Pierre with his numberless questions. 

The project of giving a public entertainment 
had originated with this same “ fifth wheel of 
a coach,” as his father called him ; and this is 
the way it came about : Laurie had taken his 
portfolio one summer morning so bright and 
early that even the birds were not all yet 
awake — had crossed the rustic bridge and fol- 
lowed the stream to an abrupt turn, where, 
from a certain nook halfway up a hillside, he 
gained the loveliest view, as he thought, to be 
found in all the country. He seated himself 
and leisurely pulled the wild flowers within 
reach, enjoying to the full the loveliness spread 
out before him, with the comfortable assurance 
that he had an entire hour for sketching before 
Auntie Blanche’s muffins and coffee would be 
ready for the breakfast-table. He sharpened 
his pencil to a nicety and began to work on 
the picture he had long beheld in fancy ; it 
was to go far beyond any previous attempt, 
and if — ah ! if — he could only succeed, it should 
be honored with the best frame he could pro- 
cure in Questiford and be hung in the dining- 
room, opposite Edna’s seat at table, so that she 
would be sure to enjoy it three times every day. 


Laurie’s trouble. 61 

Laurie’s happy meditations kept pace with 
the rapid strokes of his pencil, and he was 
getting on famously with both when, to his 
annoyance, a rustling among the bushes below 
announced an intruder on his privacy. Who 
beside himself could be so far beyond the 
limits of the village at this hour? 

Hallo, Laurie ! Laurie, I say ! where 
have you hid yourself?” 

Laurie recognized the voice, and answered 
promptly, though sorely against his will, by a 
shrill whistle, revealing his whereabouts bet- 
ter than words. Instantly the long legs of 
the blacksmith’s son brought him up to the 
artist’s nook. He watched the work in its 
progress for a few moments in silence, then 
began his usual catechism : 

What ye goin’ to put this side, Laurie ?” 

Where is that little cloud you’ve put up 
there ? I don’t see none like that over-head.” 

don’t think you’ve drawed that water 
now as well as you ought to ; can’t you do 
no better?” 

Keed’s head lowered closer to the work he 
was criticising with every question; by this 
time it was almost between Laurie’s eyes 
and the paper. 


52 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


•The young artist did not feel so tranquilly 
content as he had done a few minutes before. 

Indeed, I can’t stop to answer all your ques- 
tions, Keed,” he said ; and the movement with 
which he tossed back the troublesome ^^bang” 
that kept falling over his eyes expressed the 
impatience that he would not allow his voice 
to show. I am not doing this as nicely as if 
I were going to finish it up as a drawing, you 
see?” 

Laurie glanced at his companion for a sign 
of assent, but a very blank look met his own. 

A drawing it is,” said "Keed discontent- 
edly, and not much of a one at that, how’ever 
you finish it up. I could do ’most as well 
myself.” 

Ah, but,” responded Laurie with a smile, 

I am only making an outline now ; to-mor- 
row I shall bring my paint-box and begin 
the picture in earnest. It is to be a land- 
scape in water-color,” added he with some 
dignity. 

Oh-o-oh ! I see now !” exclaimed Reed, a 
new idea dawning upon him. “Now that 
will be something like the thing ! I was 
thinking ’twas a pity if ypu couldn’t do no 
better than that ’ere. Well, now I see what 


laueie’s trouble. 


53 


you’re at, I b’lieve I’ll take myself home and 
get some breakfast. Father’ll be lookin’ , all 
over for me.” 

It was with a feeling of relief that Laurie 
heard this decision and saw the loose-jointed 
boy swing himself through the bushes and 
betake himself to the homeward road — a feel- 
ing which was checked as soon as it arose by 
the parting remark from Keed : 

I b’lieve I’ll come along with you in the 
morning, seein’ you’re goin’ to paint. I want 
to see how you do it. I don’t like the notion 
of your cornin’ here by yourself ; it’s kinder 
lonesome. I’ll be along.” 

Laurie bit his lip with vexation at himself 
for having said a word about to-morrow. 

Reed is a perfect bore,” he said aloud for the 
benefit of whatever birds and squirrels were 
within hearing. After a few minutes more 
spent on his sketch he put it in his portfolio 
and started for home likewise. 

Reed was a boy of his word. He kept his 
voluntary engagement with Laurie, not only 
the next morning, but every succeeding morn- 
ing so long as the picture was in progress. 

To Laurence Willoughby there was a great 
charm in the work to which he had set him- 


64 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


self. As the brush moved rapidly on, crea- 
ting an ever-increasing likeness to Nature, he 
was unconscious of everything but the great 
happiness of being able to paint; he forgot 
Keed’s presence, forgot himself, consequently 
forgot more than once that it was breakfast- 
time, and that Edna would be worried about 
him if he did not appear at the table. Once 
he became so engrossed that Eeed left him in 
disgust at getting no response to his questions, 
and the result was that Laurie kept on work- 
ing, until at last, rousing as from a dream, he 
realized by the position of the sun that it must 
be long past the usual time. He gathered up 
his brushes and scampered home. There he 
found breakfast over, the family separated for 
their work, and Edna standing at the window 
looking wistfully, but in the wrong direction, 
for him. He could not take time to eat any- 
thing, for already he was an hour late for the 
printing-office. The consequence of all this 
was that he came home at night with a severe 
headache and pains in his limbs. Auntie 
Blanche marched him up stairs, following 
with a tub of hot water for his feet, and talk- 
ing all the way of the various remedies for a 
cold which her long experience had made her 


Laurie’s trouble. 


55 


familiar with. Edna came behind with a tum- 
bler of something hot to drink, and Laurie was 
sent to bed with such a mingling of nursing, 
scolding, and comforting that he retained but 
one distinct idea, and that was that no hope 
remained of his getting out to paint next 
morning. 

It was indeed several mornings before he 
felt able to rise earlier than was simply neces- 
sary for his getting down to the printing-office 
in season. At last, however, with Edna’s un- 
willing consent, he set forth on his early stroll, 
and seated himself in the nook which had 
grown so pleasant to him while the picture 
had been in progress. This time Eeed was 
not there, and it was with a sensation of per- 
fect freedom that the boy opened his box of 
colors and took his picture in hand. But, 
alas ! a great misfortune had befallen him : 
fully half his paints were missing; among 
them had gone his best and most useful col- 
ors. His accusing thoughts flew at once to 
Auntie Blanche. What more likely than that 
she should have been sweeping the Look-out 
Boom, had upset his box, and had brushed the 
precious pieces of paint, as rubbish, into her 
dust-pan? Had the poor old colored woman 


56 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


been present that moment, she would have 
heard such an outpouring of anger as seldom 
fell from the quiet boy’s lips. But this mis- 
fortune was not brought about by any care- 
lessness on the part of Auntie Blanche; and 
this Laurie soon discovered. A heavy shower 
had fallen since his last visit here, and just be- 
yond where he stood gazing about in perplex- 
ity were a few specks of red and yellow, which 
he eagerly picked up. Search for the rest was 
useless ; the rain had carried all away but these 
tiny fragments. These were sufficient to call 
to his remembrance an incident of his last 
visit here. When he had discovered the late- 
ness of the hour he had grasped his imple- 
ments with more haste than care, and had 
found a moment after starting homeward that 
his color-box was unfastened. This was the 
result. 

The fact was, that Laurie’s artist-materials 
were mere remnants of those his mother had 
used in her boarding-school days. He had 
found it hard work to make these answer be- 
fore, and now all hope of finishing his beloved 
picture was taken away. He had long wished 
for a complete box of colors, with new brushes 
and palette, but had felt that he might as well 


laueie’s teouble. 


57 


wish for a voyage to Europe or any other im- 
possible thing. His earnings at the printing- 
office were barely enough to provide him with 
clothes, and the boy’s heart was left to go hun- 
gry for all the delights of life for which he 
yearned. His father’s scheme of saving his 
sons from the temptation of squandering mon- 
ey by withholding it until they had attained 
years of discretion had its ill effects as well as 
its good ones. Laurie had felt it a hardship 
that he could not get a new box of colors ; in 
this moment of disappointment he would have 
been quite content could he restore to his box 
the cakes of paint washed away by the storm. 

The morning was spoiled ; the delight with 
which he had hurried to his retreat was chang- 
ed to sorrow. He turned from the pleasant 
scene with slow steps. When nearly home 
he spied Reed coming to meet him. 

Out again, eh ?” shouted the blacksmith’s 
son. I didn’t know as you’d be goin’ this 
morning, Laurie, or I’d have been on hand 
too. Let’s see,” said he as he turned back 
with his friend, how much you’ve got done 
on the pictur since I saw it t’other day.” 

Upon this Laurie, sure at least of sympathy, 
told Reed his sad story, and felt a little com- 


58 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


forted by the Phews and Well, I nevers 
with which the recital was interrupted. By 
the time they reached the Pantops gate the 
first distress was softened, and when, on part- 
ing, Peed placed his long fingers on Laurie^s 
shoulder and whispered, ^‘Pll stand by you, 
old fellow ! 1^11 see you through V’ the latter 
laughed aloud; the idea of Reed Remsen’s 
standing by anybody or seeing any one through 
a trouble was so funny. 

The project of finishing the landscape and 
hanging it where Edna could feast her eyes 
upon it while she presided at table was of 
course entirely overthrown. Laurie said not 
a word at home about his misfortune, as he 
had said not a word about his plan. The 
brothers and sister thought he had taken a 
foolish freak about early morning walks, and 
Edna had observed that he carried his paints 
along ; now they supposed he was tired of the 
whim and chose wisely to take a longer nap 
instead. Reed alone was in his confidence, 
and that more by the accident of having met 
him when his heart was too full for silence 
than any choice on Laurie’s part. 


CHAPTER V. 

BEED REMSElfPS PLAN. 

N the way between Pan tops and his father’s 



shop Reed’s sympathy took a practical 
turn. As he sauntered along with hands in 
his pockets and his round eyes staring at the 
tall white steeple of the meeting-house, his 
thoughts ran somewhat on this wise : 

Too bad about those paints ! Weren’t 
worth much, the whole lot of ’em, but, my ! 
how bad the fellow does feel about it ! I 
wonder what’s to be done ? Somethin’ must 
be done ; the question is. What f I’ll sell my 
chickens ; that’ll be the thing. No it won’t, 
nuther; he’s so proud he wouldn’t take the 
money. I’ll ask dad to buy a paint-box next 

time he goes to , and let me give it to 

Laurie. No, I won’t do that, for dad wouldn’t 
hear a word to it ; he’s always down on the 
Willoughby s, ’cause he thinks they’re proud.” 

There was a pause in the meditation ; the 
steeple did not seem in a mood to suggest any- 


59 


60 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


thing, Now he walked past the drug-store, 
and, looking in through the well-polished 
window, caught a glimpse of Pierre carefully 
pouring something from one bottle into another. 

What a handy chap he is mused Reed, 
conscious that he himself was a good way from 
being handy. ^^He can do anything he un- 
dertakes. Now, to think of them ^ere experi- 
ments ! I don^t suppose there’s another boy 
anywheres that’s up to such things. Wonder 
when he’ll find some more ^ odd moments,’ as 
he calls ’em, to work in his lab’raftory ? 

There ! there ! there ! I see my. way clear ! 
Why didn’t I think of that before? Splendid 
idea ! Hurrah for Reed Remsen !” This was 
shouted at the top of his lungs, and some 
women who were walking ahead of him turned 
and stared at him, evidently thinking he was 
losing the little wit he ever had. 

This brilliant idea held possession of Reed’s 
mind all day ; his father got no satisfactory 
help from him, and at last, being provoked be- 
yond endurance by the lad’s absent-minded- 
ness, told him to clear out of the shop and not 
show his face there again that day. When 
Pierre stepped from the drug-store to go home 
for his tea the lanky form of The Willoughby 


REED REMSEN^S PLAN. 


61 


shadow/^ as Reed was called now-a-days, ap- 
proached him from the lamp-post, against 
which he had stood leaning. 

Good-evening, Reed.’^ 

Evenin’, Pierre.” 

At this point conversation halted a moment 
or two until the pair got in step and well 
started toward Pantops, for thither Reed was 
bound as a matter of course, since Pierre was. 

Click ! clack ! click !” rang the young clerk’s 
boot-heels on the brick sidewalk which adorned 
the business part of Questiford, and a muffled 
echo, that lacked all the clear-cut energy of 
the companion step, came from Reed’s well- 
patched shoes. 

Pierre, I’ve got somethin’ weighin’ on my 
mind,” said the latter. 

Pierre laughed. That sounds solemn, old 
fellow,” said he ; I hope your mind is strong 
enough to bear the weight.” 

I’m not jokin’, and you needn’t laugh.” 
Reed was very sensitive to ridicule, and from 
that very fact received a full share of it from 
his companions. Without waiting for further 
parley he plunged at once into his subject, and 
by the time they had reached the house Pierre 
was in possession of the story of Laurie’s loss 
6 


62 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


and the novel method Eeed had elaborated 
during the leisure of the holiday with which 
his father had punished him. 

As a result, Eeed was invited for the first 
time to stay to tea at Pan tops. Too bashful 
to accept the courtesy, and too interested in 
his plan to decline being present while it was 
under discussion, he followed Pierre in and 
sat nervously on the edge of a chair, neither 
at the table nor away from it, and nibbled at 
the piece of ginger-cake which Edna hospi- 
tably placed in his hand, seeing that he steadi- 
ly refused all that was offered him. There 
was another uneasy person present, and that 
was Laurie, who, when his elder brother be- 
gan to tell the story of the paint-box to the 
rest of the family, flushed and paled by turns, 
and cast reproachful glances toward Eeed. This 
was not because the boy kept any secrets from 
the rest; secrets, as such, were unknown at 
Pantops, and perfect confidence existed be- 
tween the members of its little family circle. 
It was only a natural shyness that withheld 
Laurie from speaking of his own affair^,, and 
a slowness of speech that made it diffio-ult to 
begin and tell a story through, even the sim- 
ple one of his loss of the colors. 


REED REMSEN^S PLAN. 


63 


Edna’s loving eyes had discovered that some- 
thing was troubling Laurie, but she was too 
wise a sister to force a confidence. Her face 
lighted up as Pierre made known what to her 
did not seem a very serious loss. 

Paints are cheap things,” said she. I 
noticed lately a couple of very neat-looking 
boxes in Miss Trimble’s window for twenty- 
five cents.” 

This speech made Pierre and Eex laugh 
heartily, while Laurie’s lips twitched with a 
movement that had nothing in common with 
laughter, and his eyes filled with tears. 

^‘You can buy a box for two cents; that’s 
cheaper yet,” said Eex, whose interest was 
equally divided between the conversation and 
Victor’s plaintive whines for a share of his 
master’s meal. 

Seeing that his information did not meet 
with w^frm response, he continued: ‘^They’re 
first-rate, those two-cent boxes. I’ve got near- 
ly all the pictures in my geography painted with 
’em. I’ve got part of a box in my coat-pocket 
— traded ofiP two marbles to Jim Gray for 
it this afternoon. Laurie can have it if he 
likes.” 

“Thank you, Eex,” Laurie managed to say, 


64 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


but the kind of box I want would cost five 
dollars. I priced one when Edna and I were 

in . It’s no use talking any more about 

it.” 

It is a great deal of use talking about it, 
sir,”, said Pierre with a meaning smile that gave 
emphasis to his words. You shall have a box 
of paints costing five dollars if there is as much 
talent in this family as I give it credit for.” 

Everybody’s attention was secured by this 
bold speech, and Pierre went on to tell of 
Peed’s excellent plan. This was simply that 
each brother should make use of his special 
talent in getting up an entertainment, the pro- 
ceeds of which were ta purchase a new set of 
colors for the artist-boy. The result of the 
conversation which followed has been told at 
the outset. 

When Pierre had explained Peed’s novel 
idea, and had announced his own hearty ap- 
proval and readiness to do his part, several 
moments of silence followed, for everybody 
began thinking. It was Auntie Blanche, 
standing turbaned and dignified behind her 
young mistress’s chair, who first spoke. 

‘^Come, come, chil’n,” said she, ^^dis yer’ll 
never do ; won’t get my dishes washed up ’fore 


REED REMSEN^S PLAN. 65 

bed-time. If yer wants any more supper, 
jes’ you eat; if ye’re done, git up an’ go to 
de parlor.” 

There was a laugh and an immediate obe- 
dience to the old cook’s command, and by the 
time the party were seated in the parlor every 
tongue was loosed and opinions began to be 
freely interchanged. 

Pierre’s experiments are really worth look- 
ing at,” said Laurie dejectedly, but I can do 
nothing to entertain people.” 

Can’t you, though?” interrupted Kex. 
‘‘The fellows at school think that portrait 
of Victor beats everything, and they like the 
landscapes too, but not so much; it’s mostly 
the girls that admire those.” 

Laurie’s bang was tossed back with an ex- 
cited gesture: “And how, I’d like to know, 
do the boys and girls at school know anything 
about my pictures ? Have they been here, any 
of them?” 

“ No ; don’t be cross, old fellow, don’t,” said 
Rex, dreading his quiet brother’s displeasure. 
“ I took your portfolio to school one day and 
showed them the pictures. I’m proud of you, 
Laurie ; don’t be angry with me for that.” 

“I’m not angry, of course, but I’m sorry 
6 * E 


66 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


you did it, Rex, all the same. I haven’t done 
anything yet worth the showing — But I 
mean to,” he exclaimed with a sudden change 
from despondency to hope. only I could 

get a nice box of colors I would paint some- 
thing better than I ever have done yet.” 

^^You shall have your box of colors; trust 
me for that, Laurie,” said the hopeful Pierre. 

“ I can show off my stuffed birds and the 
rest ; that’s all I can do for you, Laurie,” said 
Rex with a sigh. 

‘‘ First rate, Rex ! they’re well worth seeing,” 
said Pierre ; and Edna added, Why not let 
Victor do his part too ? He loves Laurie, and 
his talents are quite equal to those of the rest 
of the family.” 

Victor had been lying on the rug before the 
fire absorbed in his own meditations, but when 
Edna mentioned his n^-me he pricked up his 
ears and listened attentively ; when she ceased 
speaking he rose and gave himself a great 
shake, then walked deliberately across the 
room to where Rex stood, and, standing on 
his hind legs, offered him his paw. 

“ All right, sir,” said Rex, shaking the paw : 
^^you mean that you will show-off all your 
tricks for Laurie’s sake, don’t you ?” 


REED REMSEN’s PLAN. 


67 


Victor’s low whine and glance toward Lau- 
rie were sufficient answer. Taking him at his 
word, his master made him go through a pri- 
vate rehearsal at once. 

I wish we could all do our parts as well as 
Victor/’ said Laurie soberly. 

While the dog was showing off his antics 
Reed had slipped from the room unobserved, 
and after quite a long absence returned with a 
small roll of paper in his hand, which he gave 
to Laurie without saying a word. 

Why, Reed, where did you find this ? 
How came you to remember ?” asked Laurie’ 
with surprise. 

Reed stood before him with his hands in his 
pockets and chuckled. 

What is it ?” asked Edna ; and then Pierre 
and Rex came nearer, and aU 'standing around 
Reed asked what he had found. 

I told him I’d see him through, and I’m a 
goin’ to, I am !” said Reed solemnly. 

Edna had taken the roll of drawing-paper 
from Laurie’s hand and opened it on the table. 
At one end were painted two small landscapes 
side by side — bits of Eastern scenery evident- 
ly — while a third, narrow and long, as were also 
the others, was dimly traced in pencil. She 


68 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


did not understand it. Keed, who was for- 
getting all his bashfulness in his excitement 
about this plan of his, came to her side and 
explained : 

He never knew as I was takin’ notice, but 
I watched him all the way through. It’s a good 
while ago, marm ” (Reed always addressed Ed- 
na as marm ”), and it was up in the Look- 
out Room. Laurie got a book — it was full of 
picturs — and he began copyin’ them, only he 
made his larger and prettier, ’cause them in 
the book warn’t painted, and his’n were. 
Then he took some little rollers and wound 
long strips of paper around ’em to see if 
they’d work. I couldn’t tell, ye see, marm, 
exactly what he was drivin’ at, ’cause I only 
watched, askin’ no questions, but I’m sure it 
was somethin’ grand. Well, one day he was 
a-workin’ and I a-lookin’, and, ’cause the 
thing didn’t jest suit him, he threw the rollers 
in the stove, and these picturs he tossed in 
the trash-basket. Now, I don’t care nothin’ 
for picturs, but, thinks I, he’s put out with 
himself now, and don’t care what he does, and 
he’ll be sorry some day. So I watches my 
chance and gets the picturs out of the basket 
and puts ’em in my pocket. Laurie never 


REED REMSEN^S PLAN. 


69 


knew;” and here the recital was interrupted 
by a long, happy chuckle. You see, marm,” 
said I^ed, he made an ugly tear in that sky, 
but I took it home and mended it up. — Now,” 
turning to Laurie, I guess as how you’ll 
thank me for savin’ ’em for you.” 

AVhy, Reed, I am not so sure of that,” 
answered I^aurie. What do you expect me 
to do with tiiem now ?” 

Go to work like a man and finish up your 
pan — panny — panory — Pshaw! I can’t think 
what it was you called the thing.” 

Panorama, was it ?” asked Edna, begin- 
ning to comprehend and to put together Reed’s 
story, the roll with its pictures at one end, 
and the memory of a certain entertainment of 
that sort which she and Laurie had attended 

during their visit to , at which time also 

Laurie had priced the paint-box. 

You ingenious fellow!” exclaimed Edna, 
with an appreciation of her brother’s effort 
not as common among older sisters as it ought 
to be. 

Laurie joined the group at the table who 
were examining the discarded work. AVith 
all his shyness and lack of hope a few words 
of encouragement were to this boy like drops 


70 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


of oil to delicate machinery; they smoothed 
away difficulties and put him in working order 
at once. 

You remember the panorama of Palestine 
we went together to see, eh, Edna 

Indeed I do, and you are going to make it 
in miniature. Why, Laurie, that will be 
charming ! With Pierre’s chemical surprises 
and Rex’s stuffed creatures, that will come in 
nicely, I don’t see but that you have a pro- 
gramme all prepared.” 

‘‘What was the trouble before?” asked 
Pierre. “ Perhaps I can help you with it.” 

“ Thank you. How good you all are !” 
said Laurie with a grateful glance around the 
circle of friendly faces. “ I can manage it if 
I try, and I will try to-morrow morning, see 
if I don’t ! I could not make it turn nicely 
on the rollers ; but I can now, I’m sure.” 

Reed Remsen strolled homeward that even- 
ing in the moonlight, alternately whistling and 
repeating to himself, “Lucky thing I saved 
that ’ere panny-what-you-call-it ! I’ll see him 
through it, I will !” 


CHAPTER VI. 


IN THE LABORATORY. 

T is not to be supposed that the plans and 



JL conversations which have filled the pre- 
ceding chapters occupied much of the time of 
the busy family in whose affairs we are inter- 
ested. With the exception of the lanky Reed 
Remsen all the people we have to deal with 
were busy workers. From morning till night, 
with only the interval of an hour at noon, 
Pierre’s thoughts were intent on mixing medi- 
cines, serving customers, and making himself 
generally useful to his employer. Laurie saw 
no pictures in the dingy little printing-office, 
where his duties were of a very uninteresting 
character, as any one knows who has ever 
taken notice of the daily routine of an office- 
boy in a small country town. Rex thought 
his days crowded to the utmost with hard ex- 
amples and tedious rows of spelling, and 
grudged himself even the recreation of a game 
at ball with his companions, so eager was he 


n 


72 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


to gain every possible ‘‘odd moment” for 
hunting or practising his art of taxidermy. 

The noon following the evening on which 
Eeed Eemsen’s plan was proposed and ap- 
proved the Look-out Eoom was filled with 
odors and confusion. The studio, the study, 
the museum — as the other three portions of 
the apartment were named — were banished for 
the time, or rather merged into one grand 
workshop for the aspiring chemist. Bottles 
and strange-looking apparatus covered Edna’s 
desk, Laurie’s table, apd even jostled the stuff- 
ed birds on Rex’s brackets. Pierre was then 
merely getting things “in order” for evening 
work ; he had not many odd minutes in the 
middle of the day. It is true he stole them 
sometimes from dinner, and grieved Edna not 
a little by catching a piece of bread or other 
portable article from the table and hurrying 
with it to the Look-out Room, utterly regard- 
less of the meal prepared for him or his duties 
at table as eldest brother. 

On this particular evening the family were 
exhorted by Pierre not to eat too much or sit 
too long at their supper talking, since they all 
were wanted to see and criticise certain experi- 
ments with which he proposed to entertain the 


m THE LABORATORY. 


73 


Questiford public. Keed was on hand of 
course, and Auntie Blanche, after her work 
was done up, dragged her rheumatic old limbs 
up the stairs, “ Jes^ for to see that them chiPn 
didn’t set the house afire.” As she entered the 
room a loud crackling sound came from she 
knew not where, and little flashes issued from 
Pierre’s hands. The old woman threw her 
apron over her face and screamed ; it was with 
difficulty that Edna soothed her and assured 
her that the noise was not thunder and that 
the house had not been struck by lightning. 
It was not until Laurie opened a window and 
bade her look out at the shining stars and 
clear blue sky that she was convinced of her 
safety. 

Reed meanwhile was on his knees beside 
Rex’s table, whereon Pierre was working with 
pestle and mortar. 

‘‘What’s that, Pierre?” “What do you 
do that for ?” “ What you goin’ to do next ?” 

“ Why do you pound it ?” “ What is this 

made of?” “ Are you sure it ain’t agoin’ to 
blow us all up ?” These were the beginning 
of Reed’s questions. 

“ Don’t talk, Reed ; you bother me,” said 
Pierre, who in his anxiety about his experi- 

7 


74 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


ments was growing nervous. explain 

everything I do if you4l only be still.” 

Keed, subdued by these words, but in no- 
wise offended, watched more intently than 
before, but kept silence. Pierre tried the ex- 
periment twice, and was pleased at the effect, 
until Edna drew his attention to Auntie 
Blanche, who was actually pale with fright 
and gave a little scream at every report. 

I would not put that on the programme, 
Pierre,” said Laurie. People woff t be will- 
ing to pay for being frightened.” 

I won’t, then,” said the other with a feel- 
ing of compassion for the scared black face 
before him. — Now,” added he, turning to 
Reed, “ Pll tell you how that was done ; it is 
very simple. This ” — and he put a harmless- 
looking crystal from one of his bottles into his 
companion’s hand — “ is called chlorate of pot- 
ash. You saw me put one of these in the 
mortar and pound it to a powder. Then I 
took half as much of this, which is powdered 
sulphur, and threw it in with the other, and 
rubbed both together pretty briskly, as you 
saw; and that was what caused the thunder 
and lightning that frightened Auntie Blanche 


IN THE LABOKATOKY. 75 

Don’t cotch me touchin’ them curus con- 
sarns o’ yourn no more, Marse Pierre,” said 
the old woman with an unsteady voice; ^Met 
’em get covered with dirt fust.” 

This threat pleased Pierre greatly, and he 
rejoiced in his heart that the old cook had re- 
ceived so thorough a fright. 

Let me try, Pierre,” said Keed. Pll do 
exactly as you. did ; may I ?” 

No, don’t you touch !” “ Please don’t !” 
and Better not meddle !” were the responses 
from different members of the party ; and Keed 
had to be content with the use of his eyes. 

I won’t make thunder, then,” said Pierre, 
'Mf it is so terrible, but I suppose nobody will 
be alarmed at a few lightning-flashes ?” 

Without waiting for an answer he caused a 
bright gleam to light up the room for an 
instant. 

^^How do you do it, Pierre?” Edna asked, 
shielding her eyes with her hand as she spoke, 
in anticipation of another flash. 

Come here, sis, and I’ll let you do it your- 
self,” said the chemist. 

Auntie Blanche, however, leaned forward 
and grasped Edna’s skirt as she rose to go to 
the table : “ Do ye think, missy, that I’m 


76 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


goin’ to let you blow yourself up before my 
very face and eyes this way ?” 

auntie, see how youVe ripped my 
dress exclaimed the young lady with a shade 
of annoyance ; but she resigned herself to the 
old woman’s wishes and took her seat again. 
Reed joyfully availed himself of Pierre’s per- 
mission to try the experiment, and stood up 
beside him. Seeing this. Auntie Blanche gave 
a groan and shuffled to the door, muttering 
that if she was to be killed, it should be by 
Marse Pierre’s own self, and not by that 
crazy good-for-naught.” It was a relief to all 
when she departed. 

^ Pierre now put something in Reed’s hand. 
It is lycopodium,” he explained, laughing. 
I don’t see as it will be much use to you, 
my telling you these names, but you seem to 
want to know all about it.” 

Likypojum?” echoed the pupil. ^^What 
do I do with it?” 

Put it into this little tube,” said the 
teacher ; “ hold it right before the candle — > 
that’s right ; now blow gently.” 

Reed obeyed, and the mimic lightning flew 
about the room, giving to every face a startling 
pallor. He dropped the tube, terrified at his 


IN THE LABORATORY. 


77 


own success, and got down on his knees again, 
with no further inclination, for that evening at 
least, to play the magician. 

How will that do for our entertainment ?” 
asked Pierre. 

The verdict of the spectators was in favor of 
this experiment, so Pierre made a note of it 
on a slip of paper headed Magician’s Pro- 
gramme.” Then he bustled about a moment 
in search of a handleless tea-cup, which Edna 
declared he had once broken on purpose, to 
get possession of it for his experiments. Into 
this, as Peed observed, he put two kinds of 
powder ; then he seemed to merely touch the 
dry powder with the end of a glass rod, and 
immediately a very brilliant illumination took 
place. 

Ho Vs that ?” asked Pierre. 

Better than gas-light,” answered Laurie. 

“ Why, Pierre,” said Edna, ’seems to me 
it would save Auntie Blanche a good deal 
of trouble about filling and cleaning lamps 
to constitute you the light-maker for the 
family.” 

You would find my sort of light more ex- 
pensive than the kerosene, Edna, and not so 
convenient to sew or read by.” 


■78 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


explain to us how that w^as done,” 
begged Laurie with increasing interest. 

Pierre, well pleased at the request, showed 
Laurie the contents of the cup : That is half 
chlorate of potash, and half fine white sugar 
pilfered from Edna’s sugar-bowl at tea-time. 
I mixed them together thoroughly. Then I 
dipped the glass rod into sulphuric acid. — I 
cheated you there, Eeed, didn’t I? You did 
not see me do that?” Eeed shook his head. 

The merest touch of the sulphuric acid to 
the powdered sugar and chlorate of potash 
causes a flame. Now you all know as much 
about it as I do.” 

^^It is very wonderful,” said Edna. 

I guess I shall have to make it seem more 
wonderful still if we carry. out our project,” 
said Pierre, and bewilder our neighbors by 
shaking a wand and pronouncing some words 
in an unknown tongue. That is the way with 
the' prestidigitators, as they call themselves.” 

That’s it, Pierre !” said Eex. Just use a 
few of those big words and dress up fancy, and 
you’ll bewilder them, sure.” 

It is already known that Eex’s advice was 
thoroughly approved and carried out when the 
occasion arrived. 


IN THE fiABORATORY. 


79 


I wonder what else I can show them for 
Laurie’s benefit?” mused Pierre, taking down 
one bottle after another in doubt, and finally 
seizing his much-worn Chemistry and turning 
over its leaves in search of an idea. There 
are plenty of surprising effects to be produced, 
but then many of them need to be examined 
closely ; and that won’t do.” 

I wish you could get up a magician’s box,” 
said Rex, out of which would tumble roses 
and candies and all sorts of things that no- 
body would expect. That’s the way to make 
people laugh.” 

A good idea, Rex !” replied the elder 
brother. I’ll see if I can contrive that very 
thing.” 

Rex looked in Pierre’s face with round eyes 
of surprise. He had not made his suggestion 
with any thought of it being a possibility. 

“ I think of one little amusing experiment, 
and I will try it if — Do you think, Edna, 
that Auntie Blanche has left a few drops of 
hot water in her kettle?” 

Before Edna had time to answer Reed’s 
long legs had taken him to the door, and he 
was down to the kitchen and back again with 
a small pitcher of the desired hot water in a 


80 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


marvellously short time. Pierre then put 
some of it in a test-tube, and dissolved there- 
in a crystal of bluestone or sulphate of cop- 
per. He then took his pocket-knife and 
plunged its bright blade into the blue liquid. 
When he took it out Laurie exclaimed, Oh 
what a pity, to spoil your nice knife ! I have 
an old one in my pocket that would not have 
been much loss.” 

Pierre made no reply, but quietly rubbed 
the knife on one of the many bits of rag that 
he kept handy, and held it out as clean and 
bright as before. 

This experiment seemed to cause more won- 
der among the group, although less startling, 
than any of the others. 

Explain it, do !” said Edna. 

‘^Why, Edna, I never knew you felt any 
interest before in my hobby, as you call it.” 
Pierre spoke with pleased surprise. 

I fear I have not shown any enthusiasm,” 
admitted Edna. have seen you working 
away at your side of the room while I at my 
own window was busy thinking of other mat- 
ters, and so have not taken these things in. I 
wish I knew enough about chemistry to appre- 
ciate the experiments better.” 


IN THE LABORATORY. 


81 


I wislj I liad time to teach .you, and you 
time to learn exclaimed the brother, with en- 
thusiasm enough to make up for the lack which 
she deplored. But you want to know the 
secret of this transformation ? It is easy 
enough. The sulphate of copper, acting upon 
the metal, produces the bright red color of 
metallic copper. If I had put the knife-blade 
again in the liquid and left it there, you would 
have seen the blueness disappear and a brown 
powder would have been deposited — copper, 
you see. Then, had I put a clean piece of iron 
in the solution, no further red deposit would 
have appeared, showing that all the copper 
had been previously thrown down.” 

Too deep for me !” yawned sleepy Bex. 

I think it’s funny, though, so don’t scowl at 
a fellow.” 

The evening had passed very pleasantly to 
this group of young people, and when they 
closed the door of the Look-out Boom and 
went down stairs, it was with a hopeful pros- 
pect in regard to the proposed entertainment. 
Pierre could carry out his share of it, at all 
events. 

All this has been a glance backward. We 
already know the reception the celebrated con- 
F 


82 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


jurer met from the Questiford audience. We 
know that Laurie’s work at the once-rejected 
panorama succeeded in impressing the Bible 
scenes which he pictured on the minds of the 
young spectators; we have seen too that Vic- 
tor and Victor’s master did their part well in 
preparing for a public exhibition. We may 
imagine, too, that Edna’s fingers were busy in 
preparing the magician’s Eastern garb, and in 
filling up the little details of the whole, which 
the boys, boy like, overlooked. 

Laurie got his paint-box. It must be owned 
that the admission fees of five cents were not 
sufficient to buy the kind which the artist had 
fixed his hopes upon, but the k)ving elder sis- 
ter opened her purse as well as her heart on 
Laurie’s behalf ; so that one day, when he came 
to his table in the Look-out Boom searching 
for a piece of rubber, he found there the preci- 
ous treasure he had longed for, a well-ordered, 
neatly-filled paint-box. 

Again there came a period of early morning 
• walks and hours of delight in the chosen nook 
on the hillside. This time there was the added 
happiness of being alone — a very important 
matter to a boy of Laurie’s disposition. 


CHAPTER VII. 

EDNA^S SORROWFUL DAY. 

E dna stood at the open kitchen-door one 
' May morning beating eggs. It was 
Laurence’s thirteenth birthday, and this good 
elder sister was intent on preparing for him 
the most delicious pudding described in her 
cook-book. Auntie Blanche, from the sink 
where she was -busy washing the breakfast- 
dishes, turned more than once to look at the 
plump little figure enveloped in a large work- 
apron and say to herself what a wunnerful 
smart young missy” she was. 

Flop ! flop ! flop !” went the eggs as their 
snowy drifts piled higher and higher under 
the steady motion of Edna’s arm, and the 
young housekeeper’s thoughts kept time with 
the regular beat of the fork, as if it had been 
a song she was singing to an accompaniment 
on the piano. 

How sweet the spring air is ! how pretty 

83 


84 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


the yard is beginning to look ! My seeds here 
all come up splendidly. How happy we all are 
here in dear old Pantops ! Nobody else has 
such good brothers as I. I am so glad there 
is nobody that has a right to come here and 
upset things This last thought grew from 
the circumstance that a child in her Sunday- 
school class had confided to her the day pre- 
vious of the coming home of a certain cousin 
Ann who made everybody mind her, from 
^^dad’’ down to the baby, and who put a stop 
to all their good times. Poor little Moll 
thought Edna with a sigh of sympathy. It 
must be dreadful to have a cousin Ann.^’ She 
stepped outside the door, and held up a spoon- 
ful of the fluffy substance to see if it were frothed 
enough, when the sound of a slouching step 
coming around the side of the house made a 
pause in work and thinking. She looked up, 
and Peed Pemsen was coming toward her with 
a letter in his hand. His appearance surprised 
her, for it was mid-morning, a time when Peed 
should, if ever, be in the blacksmith-shop at 
work. Besides this, Pierre generally got the 
mail early, but kept it until his return at the 
dinner-hour. She set down the dish on the 
' old settle that stood against the house, and 


Edna’s sokrowful day. 85 

sprang forward to take the letter from 
Keed’s hand. 

‘^Why did you come? Is there any bad 
news? Did Pierre send you?” ■ 

These fast-flowing questions quite bewildered 
the slow-working mind of the messenger, and 
for a moment or two he leaned against the 
grape-arbor and stared with that peculiar ab- 
sence of all expression so aggravating when 
one is seeking for information. Edna tore 
open the letter, looked at the signature, and 
had read to the third page by the time the 
blacksmith’s son had collected his ideas and 
was ready to express them : 

“Nuthin’ wrong whatever. I happened to 
be passing along the street as Pierre come out 
the post-office, and says I, ‘ If there’s anything 
— papers or such — to go to Pantops, I’d as 
lieve drop in with ’em as not.’” 

Thank you, Reed : I’m much obliged,” 
said Edna, now quite absorbed in the letter*. 

Pierre said as how he couldn’t make out 
the post-mark, and didn’t know who ’twas 
from, and, as ’twas for you, I might as well 
bring it along.” 

Reed lingered several moments, still leaning 
against the grape-arbor, for a response from 
8 


86 THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 

Edna, but failing to attract her attention, he 
shuffled himself back to the road and on to 
the shop, where his long-suffering father was 
watching for him to come and give him a 
helping hand. 

Missy,^^ called Auntie Blanche from with- 
in the kitchen, ^^time dat ’ere puddin’ o’ yourn 
was ready ; oven’s jes’ ’zackly right for’t. Laws! 
honey, what ails ye, lookin’ so glum?” 

Edna had finished her letter, but still stood 
with it open before her, thinking of its con- 
tents, and, as Auntie Blanche expressed it, 
looking “glum.” She did not notice the old 
cook as her turbaned head appeared at the 
door — did not see that the dish of eggs was 
removed from the settle. In fact, she had 
forgotten all about Laurie’s birthday-pudding, 
and was wandering out among the garden-paths 
in a dreamy mood, while Auntie Blanche was 
mixing up a pudding after her own mind. 
When the striking of the great clock in the 
dining-room brought her back to present real- 
ities, she hastened to the kitchen to find that the 
pudding was in the oven and all trace of its 
preparation removed from the table. Noth- 
ing remained for her to do, so Edna threw 
herself down in a chair and burst out crying. 


EDNA^S SORROWFUL DAY. 87 

At sight of this down went an armful of 
wood that Auntie Blanche was about to put 
in the stove, and a pair of motherly old arms 
were clasped around Edna’s neck: ^‘Now, 
missy, you’ve jes’ got to tell nursey all about 
it. What brought that long-legged boy here 
to torment you ? Where did the letter come 
from?” 

Thus questioned, Edna straightened herself 
up and read aloud the letter. 

This commenced, “Dear Niece and 
Nephews Willoughby,” and was signed, 
“ Your faithful aunt, Eliza Schenck.” 
The writing was cramped and irregular — for 
Mrs. Schenck had never been much of a scribe 
in her best days — but sufficiently distinct to 
set forth its unwelcome news beyond the com- 
fort of a doubt. 

In the years that had passed between the 
rustling of the bridal silk dress into the car- 
riage at the gate of Pantops and the present 
hour no communication had taken place be- 
tween the young Willoughbys and this, in 
every sense, far-off aunt. A host of unpleas- 
ant recollections of childish sorrows under 
her rule flashed upon Edna’s mind as she 
read and re-read her aunt’s words. In short. 


88 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


clear-cut sentences, and without any waste of 
sentiment, Mrs. Schenck made it known to 
her young relatives that she had lost her 
husband, and was thus left a widow with small 
means, and her step-son to care for, in a rough 
Western town where the late Mr. Schenck had 
made and lost a fortune. He was too much 
like your poor father,” wrote the widow, and 
did not know how to manage for himself. We 
all might have been in the poor-house long ago 
if it had not been for me.” The writer hoped 
her brother’s children had made out to get along 
without her care during the past years. She 
had tried to do her duty by them before they 
were providentially separated, and now that 
circumstances had left her free to decide on 
her future, she proposed to resume that duty. 
Her small annuity added to theirs would help 
them to keep house together in a style more 
consistent with the dignity of the Willoughbys 
than had been the case in her poor brother’s 
lifetime, and her son John — who was about 
the age of Pierre — would be a companion for 
the boys. The aunt proceeded to inquire what 
servants Edna had, adding that no doubt, even 
if alive, the old colored woman they used to have 
must now be too infirm for house-work. 


EDNA'S SORROWFUL DAY. 


89 


Too infirm, eh repeated Auntie Blanche 
indignantly when Edna, without forethought, 
read this part of the letter. I’m not too in- 
firm to look after my own dear missus’s chil’n, 
as Mis’ Schenck’ll find out when she gits 
back.” Then the rough old hands stroked 
the girl’s soft hair, and tears gathered in the 
deep furrows of the old cook’s face as her 
thoughts too went travelling along the road 
of future trials which had engaged Edna’s 
thoughts when she wandered about the gar- 
den forgetful of Laurie’s birthday-pudding. 

But the pudding was baked, and the wel- 
come shouts of the returning boys dried the 
tears on both faces and brought both the old 
woman and the young one back from antici- 
pated trials to present duties and pleasures. 

Edna’s swollen eyelids did not pass unno- 
ticed at the table, and at once the boys began 
to question her. 

Rex asked wistfully, Is it because I didn’t 
clear up the litter in the museum ?” 

‘‘Better call your division of territory the 
muss-’eum, Rex,” said Pierre. “ You ought to 
select some other hobby not quite so dirty.” 

“ Was it that, Edna ?” again inquired the 
loving little boy. 


90 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


Edna shook her head, and became very busy 
helping the family to potatoes. 

know,’’ exclaimed Laurie. ^^It’s that 
little May in the story she is writing. She 
read part of it to me yesterday. May was 
taken ill on the last page, and I guess she’s 
been killing her this morning. No wonder 
she is sorry.” 

Edna laughed with the rest at Laurie’s sup- 
position, and told him not to be uneasy about 
May, as she had given her the measles in or- 
der to bring about a journey to the mountains 
for her restoration — that there she was to meet 
her friend Miss Ethrington again, and all was 
to go smoothly to the close of the story. 

We are all glad to hear that poor little 
May is so well provided for, since she was 
obliged to have the measles,” said Pierre. 

Now I want to ask about that letter I sent 
by Keed. I could not make out the post- 
mark, and did not recognize the writing. 
If there was any one nearly enough connect- 
ed with us to cause you anxiety, I should 
fear that there was bad news.” 

Here Edna drew the letter in question from 
her pocket and handed it to Pierre with the 
request that he would read it aloud. 


Edna’s sorrowful day. 91 

till I’ve had my slice of Laurie’s 
birthday-pudding,” said Pierre. “I was in 
the kitchen just now and saw Auntie Blanche 
take it out of the oven. What lovely pud- 
dings you do make, Edna !” 

Edna was sorry to be obliged to disclaim 
this compliment, so far as it concerned the 
present proof of her ability, for nothing in 
the world was sweeter to her ears than praise 
of her housekeeping achievements from one 
of her brothers. 

The pudding was eaten and pronounced tip 
top,” to the great satisfaction of good Auntie 
Blanche, and then came the letter. The boys 
listened with interest, but without any of the 
sorrow which their sister’s swollen eyelids ex- 
pressed. 

She hopes we have made out to get along 
without her, eh ?” repeated. Eex. “ Why, I 
don’t remember any aunt Eliza at all ; I, for 
one, have made out first-rate without her all 
my life.” 

You were a baby, Eex, when she was mar- 
ried and went away. — But, Pierre, you were 
old enough to recollect ; I am sure you must,” 
said the sister. 

Yes, I believe I do. Isn’t she tall and 


92 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


thin, with eyes that turn you inside out when 
she looks at you?’’ 

Edna nodded, and the tears came again. 

A pleasant prospect for us all, eh, Rex ?” 
said Laurie. suppose Aunt Eliza will 
treat us as you do your beasts and birds when 
you get them ready to stuff. Better look out, 
sir ; she’ll turn the museum out of doors 
quick enough. 1 don’t believe she feels any 
interest in the pursuit of science.” 

I wonder,” said Pierre, what kind of 
boy our cousin John is ? If he happens to be 
of the right sort, it will be very pleasant for 
us. — Do you remember him, Edna ?” 

I never saw him but once, Pierre, and that 
was when he was very small. All I can re- 
call about the child was that he monopolized 
all the playthings, and screamed whenever you 
ventured to touch one. I was angry enough 
because he pulled the tail off your rocking- 
horse and tied it under his chin for whiskers.” 

He is probably a good deal pleasanter by 
this time,” said Pierre. “ As for whiskers, he 
can afford to wait now for his own to grow.” 

I hope he likes pictures,” said Laurie. 

I hope he likes fun,” exclaimed Rex. 

I hope he’ll prove a good fellow, whatever 


Edna’s sorrowful day. 93 

lie likes, that will be good company for us,” said 
Pierre. — ‘^Anyhow, I don’t see the use of feel- 
ing bad about it, Edna. If Aunt Eliza has 
made up her mind to come and take care of 
us, we can’t very well help it ; so let us receive 
her with the best grace we can, and make the 
best of it. You will always be the head of the 
family in my eyes, sis.” 

As he spoke Pierre went to Edna’s seat at 
table, where she was dreamily playing with 
her knife and fork instead of eating her pud- 
ding, and gave her a hearty kiss. The other 
boys followed his example, then seized their 
hats and were off to store, office, and school. 
Edna made no haste to rise from the table, but 
sat with her head on her hand, giving way to 
sorrowful forebodings, until Victor came to 
beg for his dinner and startled her by licking 
her face in mute token of sympathy. She was 
brought back to things present by the touch of 
his rough tongue, and at once set about col- 
lecting the scraps of food on a plate for his 
benefit. Auntie Blanche came in while she 
was so engaged, and with a quick perception 
of her young missy’s state of mind inquired 
if she had heard within a day or so how little 
Job Hendricks was getting along. Job was 


94 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


a poor deformed little fellow at the other 
end of the village who was subject to ^‘bad 
turns/^ as people said, and was now suffer- 
ing from one of these. Edna had not heard 
from him. 

“Then, honey, s’pose you pick a few posies 
for him while I put the rest of dis yer puddin’ 
in a basket, along with a few o’ them little 
cakes you made yesterday? It’ll please the 
poor thing wunnerful now, missy, an’ do you 
a heap o’ good, too. Come now !” 

Thus exhorted, Edna gave Victor an affec- 
tionate pat and went to the garden in search 
of the bunch of flowers. Auntie Blanche’s 
suggestions were generally carried out, and 
her rule, though an unconscious one, was 
hardly less complete than during the child- 
hood of Edna and her brothers. By the 
time the flowers were picked and arranged 
the basket of good things was also ready, 
and Edna sauntered along the path and passed 
from under the shadow of the great elms, im- 
pressed, in spite of inward gloom, with the 
beauty which God spreads over the world 
each spring-time as a fresh revelation of his 
goodness. 

She would greatly have preferred the soli- 


Edna’s sorrowful day.. 95 

tude of her study in the Look-out Room, and 
would, if the wise old nurse had let her alone, 
have taken her pen in hand to kill off little 
May with the measles and close the story with 
a series of calamities in harmony with her 
present state of mind. The soft air of spring 
cooled her face, and her nerves too, as she 
walked along; the great puff-bq,lls of white 
cloud above her, sailing in the blue depths of 
the sky, and the vivid freshness of the grass 
under her feet, alike soothed and refreshed 
her perturbed spirit ; so that by the time she 
reached the cottage where little Job Hendricks 
lay restless and suffering she was ready to give 
him, along with the flowers and cakes, looks 
and words of cheer that did more to make him 
happy than they. Coming out again from the 
shadow of Job’s sick room into the sunshine, 
and from the thoughts of his unbrightened 
life to the knowledge of the fulness of her 
own, Edna’s feelings in regard to her aunt’s 
coming were considerably modified. Aunt 
Eliza might not be so grim as her childish 
memory had pictured her ; besides, she would 
naturally take the responsibility of housekeep- 
ing matters, and so let her be altogether free 
for her beloved story-making. Then the un- 


96 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


known cousin, if of the right sort, would add 
greatly to the social enjoyment of the family. 
These advantages, Edna began to think, would 
counterbalance much that was disagreeable, and, 
after all, it might be the very best instead of. 
the very worst thing that was about to befall 
them. 

When the, family gathered around the sup- 
per-table it was with a smiling instead of a 
tearful face at the head, and, as Pierre re- 
marked, it was much more desirable to be in 
need of sun-shades than umbrellas. Rex 
begged Edna to drink but one cup of tea, 
and not pass the cake-basket around, because 
he had a colony of ants under consideration 
out beside the summer-house, and he wanted 
the rest to come out and look at them before 
it grew dark. Reed Remsen was already 
waiting for them at the door. 


Rex begged Edna to drink but one cup of lea, and not to pass the cake-basket around. 



I 


(Lbc (H'lUloucibbijt 









CHAPTER VIII. 


AUNT SCHENCK. 



DNA stood under one of the great elm 


J ' J trees one afternoon in the early part of 
June, casting anxious glances along the road 

by which the stage from was expected. It 

came in sight with a cloud of dust ; it stopped 
at the gate ; the steps were let down ; and Ed- 
na’s hand was extended to grasp that of a big 
boy who sprang from the vehicle. This must 
be John Schenck, by courtesy her cousin. She 
gained but a glimpse at the face, for it was 
turned instantly back to the coach, and the 
hand also, to assist the other passenger to 
alight. 

This is Aunt Eliza ?” and Edna tried her 
best to put a tone of hearty welcome in her 
voice. 

Aunt Schenck, if you please. I consider 
it only proper respect to my husband’s mem- 
ory that you should call me by his name.” 

9 a 97 


98 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


Certainly, Aunt Schenck.” A sensitive 
ear would have detected a trifle less heartiness 
in this than in Edna’s former words, but the 
tall lady now standing, bag in hand, within 
the Pantops gate had not a sensitive ear. 

“ John can see to the trunks and all that,” 
said the lady. am fairly beat out with 
the journey; if my room is ready. I’ll go 
right away to it, Edna. — I suppose you are 
Edna?” 

A pair of very keen eyes searched the girl’s 
face; and Edna, as she gave assent, remem- 
bered Pierre’s question, Isn’t she tall and 
thin, with eyes that turn you inside out when 
she looks at you?” Except for the change 
from the gray silk dress of the bride to the 
mourning garb of widowhood, this was the 
same Aunt Eliza — henceforth Aunt Schenck 
— whose departure from Pantops had been a 
joyful event to the little Willoughbys years 
before. 

Mrs. Schenck walked briskly up the path 
to the open hall-door, where, with clean apron 
and spotless white turban. Auntie Blanche 
awaited her with a respectful courtesy. 

^^How d’ye do, Blanche? So you’re here 
yet?” 


AUNT SCHENCK. 


99 


The old servant of the Willoughbys had 
received the title of respect, “auntie/’ from 
two generations of the family, but “Miss 
’Liza” had not even in her youth given in 
to a custom which she said had no sense 
in it. 

“’Seems to me your brothers might have 
shown me a little more politeness.” They 
stood in the hall, and Mrs. Schenck was busy 
shaking the dust from her dress as she spoke. 
Edna made the best apology she could for the 
boys, saying they were not at liberty at that 
hour, but would pay their respects to her at 
supper-time. 

“ Hm !” was all the response vouchsafed. 

Meanwhile, John had paid the driver and 
had helped bring in the trunks, and the trav- 
ellers were immediately shown to their rooms. 
While they were left to refresh themselves, 
Edna hurried to the Look-out Eoom “ to get 
her thoughts together,” as she told Auntie 
Blanche, but, as the latter shrewdly suspected, 
to have a good cry. It seemed to her that she 
had been there but a few minutes, though 
really it had been a full hour, when a noise 
of doors being opened and shut made her lift 
her head from her hands, conscious that she 


]00 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


was on the point of being interrupted in her 
revery. Somebody was groping up the back 
steps that by common consent belonged to the 
museum. Edna roused herself and opened 
the door to give some light on the ascent. 

Phew ! bah ! — Goodness, Edna ! what 
kind of a place is this ? Doif t you ever have 
these steps scrubbed down ? It smells like — 
Phew ! Wait till I get things fairly under 
way ! I don’t have any such smells where I’m 
mistress, I tell you.” There was a prolonged 
emphasis on the you ” that was meant to be 
impressive, and it was. 

Edna mutely offered her aunt her own low 
chair, and handed her a fan ; then she stood 
by, waiting for the lady to become more com- 
posed, and finally began to explain matters. 

You don’t say that you allow that boy to 
do all such dirty work up here? Well ! it is 
high time for me to come and see to things ! 
The very idea of such carelessness ! Why, 
Edna, how old are you ?” 

The gray eyes fixed their gaze on Edna with 
cold and curious scrutiny, from which the sen- 
sitive girl shrank, but she answered, ‘‘I was 
twenty last October, Aunt Schenck.” 

Hm ! This room was a very different- 


AUNT SCHENCK. 


101 


looking place in my day/’ remarked Mrs. 
Schenck after a moment’s silence. “ What are 
all those bottles and things over there? I 
shall have them moved off to the garret to- 
morrow.” 

Oh no ! no ! Oh, Aunt Schenck, you must 
not ; those belong to Pierre. He is interested 
in chemistry, and spends all his odd moments 
up here working out his experiments.” 

I’ll teach him better ways of spending his 
^ odd moments/ ” was the grim remark. 

Edna felt herself beginning to tremble with 
the very thought of such a catastrophe, and 
her sense of justice happily came to her aid, 
giving to her quiet nature a momentary cour- 
age in defence of family rights : Aunt Schenck, 
we mean — the boys and I — to pay you all re- 
spect as the head of the family now that you 
have come, but — but — you know that Pan tops 
is our home ; it was our father’s, and he left it 
to us — to me. It is our right to have things 
as we like here.” 

Edna paused a moment to get breath to fin- 
ish her speech. It was dreadful to have to as- 
sert herself thus, and to her aunt. The cold 
gray eyes were fixed upon her flushed face, 
and their gaze wavered not any more than the 


102 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


eyes of the portraits down stairs would have 
done during her daring speech and the lull 
of silence that succeeded. 

“ The Look-out Room is our special place for 
work and study. • It is to remain exactly as it 
is, and no one has the least authority to touch 
a thing here except ourselves. Forgive me, 
Aunt Schenck.’^ 

It was amusing, the contrast between the in- 
dependent tone in which this speech was uttered 
and the meekness of the concluding request. 
Even Mrs. Schenck perceived this, or would 
have done so but that she never allowed her- 
self to see anything funny. She rose from her 
seat without a word to her niece and left the 
Look-out Room, which, so long as she lived 
at Pantops, she was never again known to 
enter except when requested to do so by one 
of its rightful inmates. 

As if to make up for this concession, how- 
ever, the new ruler of Pantops spared no 
other nook or corner of the wide house. 
Unused closets were thrown open to the light, 
and rooms that had been closed for years except 
at the annual house-cleaning. The sound of 
the scrubbing-brush was heard from morning to 
night, and a continual smell of soap-suds per- 


AUNT SCHENCK. 


103 


vaded the air. Rex’s special stairway, whose 
offensive odor had occasioned the unlucky 
outbreak on Edna’s part, received its full 
share of cleansing. Aunt Schenck had yield- 
ed all claim to the Look-out Room, but she 
maintained her authority up to the very door- 
sill. Rex received orders to do his dirty work 
out of doors, and was forbidden carrying any 
article up stairs without first submitting it to 
his aunt’s inspection. 

Auntie Blanche kept up for a week, endur- 
ing the scrubbing, the fault-finding, the new 
ways of things with all patience for the sake 
of dem blessed chil’en.” At the end of that 
time she was taken down with a misery,” as 
she called it, but whether the misery was heart- 
ache or rheumatism it was hard to tell. Mrs. 
Schenck took excellent care of the old servant, 
for she was a woman that believed in “ doing 
her duty” in every emergency. She dosed 
her with medicines and teas; she prescribed 
absolute quiet, and would not allow Edna to 
stay in her room but five minutes a day, lest 
she should excite the invalid. Nobody knew 
how the old woman tossed and cried and wor- 
ried her strength away in simple longing for 
the touch of her young missy’s hand on her 


104 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


aching head and the sound of her pleasant 
voice. 

As for Edna, she wandered about the house 
wondering at its lack of home-likeness, and not 
knowing exactly what made it so different from 
the dear old place it had been. It was clean and 
orderly beyond past experience. Edna told her- 
self she ought to rejoice over neatness and or- 
der. The meals were ready at the stroke of the 
clock; and good meals they were, too, for Aunt 
Schenck’s experience held larger resources than 
did Edna’s cook-book. Two young girls from 
the village had been secured in place of Auntie 
Blanche, and these were found more docile 
under the new management than she had 
been. Mrs. Schenck was not displeased at 
the turn things had taken. When Auntie 
Blanche got better, and was able to sit up, a 
new point of discussion arose: What was to 
be done about her? Mrs. Schenck pro- 
nounced her too infirm to be of further use, 
and recommended that Edna should write and 
hunt up any relatives she might have, and let 
them take her and care for her. 

A second time Edna Willoughby asserted 
her rights. Auntie Blanche should never 
leave Pantops. She was not a servant to be 


AUNT SCHENCK. 


105 


discharged, but a faithful friend who had 
loved and cared for her and her brothers 
when they had no one else to care for them. 
In her old age she should be a sacred charge 
to them. 

Again Mrs. Schenck heard her niece declare 
her rights with perfect composure and without 
resistance, and yielded up Auntie Blanche to 
her supervision as freely as she had yielded 
the Look-out Room. Edna then selected a 
small apartment that had been previously used 
as a trunk-room — had it cleared and a few sim-. 
pie articles of furniture moved into it. It must 
be said, to the aunt’s credit, that she assisted in 
the work, and even suggested several matters 
by which the comfort of the place would be 
enhanced. Mrs. Schenck w^as a peculiar per- 
son, and far from agreeable in her present 
position, but she had certain fine qualities, 
among which were a strong sense of justice 
and a power of total surrender. A point once 
yielded was yielded for all time, and without 
any lingering grudge to spoil the concession. 

In this little room Auntie Blanche was 
duly installed, and near Edna’s window in 
the Look-out Room a well-cushioned rock- 
ing-chair, of the clumsy, comfortable style of 


106 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


a past generation of chairs, was placed where 
at any hour of tlie day the old woman might 
sit and knit, and croon away her beloved camp- 
meeting tunes accompanied by the drowsy creak 
of the rockers. 

This arrangement did much to restore the 
home-feeling to Edna and her brothers; it 
never disturbed the reveries of the authoress, 
the labors of the chemist, or the dreams of 
the artist, to have their dear old friend 
among them there. Eex was delighted to 
have always a willing ear to listen to his 
accounts of adventures in the woods, and a 
pair of eyes that never failed to admire the 
results of his various labors. 


CHAPTEK IX. 


JOHN. 



T was not until the morning of the second 


JL day after the arrival of the strangers at 
Pantops that the young Willoughbys found 
themselves alone together. They all chanced 
to meet in the Look-out Room before break- 
fast. Laurie was at his table, eager to catch 
an odd moment for his picture, by this time 
well under way and giving promise of ap- 
proaching his ideal ; Edna had come to write 
a note to a former schoolmate; Pierre had 
promised to make a preparation for the re- 
moval of grease-spots for his sister, and had 
seized these odd minutes for the purpose ; Rex 
was putting a new eye in his owl. 

On finding themselves together these various 
intentions became matters of secondary import- 
ance — -that is, with the exception of Laurence, 
in whose eyes painting was second to nothing 
— and with one accord they gathered about 
Laurie^s table and began to talk. 


107 


108 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


Isn’t she dreadful ?” began Eex. There’s 
Victor — as good as any of us, he is — not al- 
lowed to come up stairs ; there’s the rabbits, 
poor things ! moved away off from the house, 
where I can’t get at them ; there’s — ” 

“ Sh-sh-sh, Eex !” exclaimed Edna ; '^some- 
body will hear you. I’m real sorry about it 
all, dear and Eex knew that she was by the 
hug and kiss she gave him as she spoke. 

" AVhat do we all think of our cousin J ohn ?” 
asked Pierre. 

" He’s a good fellow,” was Laurie’s prompt 
reply. " I, for one, vote that we give him a 
place in the Look-out Eoom.” 

" Wait till we see if he wants it,” said Eex. 
" I would like him first-rate if he didn’t spend 
so much time brushing his clothes and blacking 
his boots. He is too finnicky for me.” 

" He is a good example for you, Eex,” said 
Edna. " Do you ever polish your boots except 
for Sunday ?” 

"And his hair,” said Laurie, continuing 
Eex’s complaint ; " I guess he uses oil to 
make it lie so smooth; I can’t bear to see a 
boy’s hair plastered down like that,” said the 
owner of the bang. 

Laurie’s censure met with no more sympathy 


JOHN. 


109 


than did that of Rex. thaRs all there 

is against him/’ said Pierre, he must be a 
pretty good fellow.” 

No doubt, being an only child and his 
father well off, at least during most of John’s 
lifetime, he is somewhat spoiled, and may be 
selfish,” said Edna, going back to the unfa- 
vorable impression given at his first visit to 
Pantops; but I must say John is quite a 
gentleman. It surprises me, too, for I feared 
he would turn out a vulgar, ignorant fellow, 
coming as he did from that rough Western 
place.” 

Oh but, Edna, he has not spent his time 
there for several years ; he has been at board- 
ing-school in St. Louis : he told us so when 
we were in the summer-house after tea ; don’t 
you remember?” said Laurie. 

Yes, that must be the reason,” Edna re- 
plied. 

He talks as if he had always had his 
own way about things,” said Pierre, ‘^yet I 
can’t see anything like spoiling in his moth- 
er’s treatment of him.” 

’Guess it was his father that did the spoil- 
ing,” remarked Rex. 

We’ll invite him up here this evening, and 

10 


110 


WE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


see how he conducts himself, and whether he 
is worthy or not to belong to our select so- 
ciety.” 

While Laurie was speaking one of the new 
maids knocked at the door and gave Mrs. 
Schenck’s message that the breakfast-bell had 
rung some time before, and that they would 
pleasfe come down without further delay. 

John, who was compelled to admit that it 
was very dull while the other boys were ab- 
sent at their regular duties, cheerfully accept- 
ed the invitation extended to him by Pierre 
that evening to come up to their sky-parlor 
and see how they amused themselves at odd 
moments. 

^Odd moments !’ ” he repeated. I think 
I could endure the ^odd moments’ if I knew 
what to do with myself all the even ones.” 

‘^Yes, indeed,” was Laurie’s sympathetic 
rejoinder, ^^it must be tedious enough loung- 
ing about the house here, as you did yesterday, 
with nobody to speak to.” 

Thank you for the compliment, Laurie,” 
said Edna. ‘^Wasn’t I here? and couldn’t he 
speak to his mother ?” 

‘^Beg pardon. Cousin Edna,” said John, 
laughing, while Rex defended his brother by 


JOHN. 


Ill 


remarking that girls were nice enough in 
their way, and that Edna was a tip-top girl, 
but for all that a fellow needed other fellows 
for company. 

We’ll introduce him to Keed Kemsen,” 
said Pierre, and after that he’ll never know 
what it is to want a companion.” 

In the general laugh that followed this 
speech John did not know whether he was 
being ridiculed or not. His face flushed in- 
stantly, proving that he was sufficiently sen- 
sitive, if his step-mother was not. He gave a 
quick glance at the group of faces, and felt 
assured then and for ever that laughter in 
that family had no sting behind it — that no- 
thing covert or unkind need be feared from 
these frank, noble-minded cousins. 

On reaching the Look-out Eoom, John 
gazed about him in surprise. It looks like 
work up here,” said he ; “I supposed, when 
you spoke of ^ odd moments,’ you meant fun.” 

So we did,” all three of the Willoughby 
boys responded eagerly. 

, <<Work,” added Laurie, ^^if it is the sort 
that suits you, is the very best kind of fun.” 

^‘You have been at school all the time,” 
said Pierre ; I suppose you have been study- 


112 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


ing right along. You have never tried any 
kind of work, have you?” 

Pierre was looking while he spoke at John’s 
white hands, that formed a marked contrast to 
his own, that were well stained with chemicals, 
and still more so to those of Pex, browned by 
exposure to weather and scratched in all di- 
rections by slips of his knife and the claws 
of animals. 

^‘Yes, I have tried work, Pierre, though 
you do look at my hands as if they were not 
good for anything. A gentleman can work 
and yet keep his hands decent, I hope.” 

Certainly,” responded Pierre, at the same 
time thrusting his own discolored ones into 
his pockets. Here,” said he, turning toward 
the east window, is where I enjoy my ^ odd 
moments.’ ” They had been standing some time 
in the Look-out Room, watching the sunset 
sky from Edna’s window. 

“ Bottles and smells !” said John in a tone 
of such irreverence toward his treasures that 
Pierre found it hard to forgive him. Oh 
yes, I had enough of chemistry at Granby * 
Hall — two lectures a week, and long recita- 
tions besides.” 

How I wish I had had your chance !” 


JOHN. 


113 


said Pierre, a little sadly. I would give 
anything to be able to study chemistry under 
a good teacher.’^ 

Why don’t you, then ?” John asked with 
surprise, for in his experience, at least up to 
the time of his father’s death, “to wish for” 
was synonymous with “to have” in his vo- 
cabulary. 

The boys united in giving him an account 
of their father’s will, which had made it im- 
possible for any one of them to carry on any 
branch of study after the age of twelve, ex- 
cept, as Pierre was doing with chemistry, by 
the aid of books and firm resolution. 

“ He must have been a queer stick, that 
father, of yours. — I beg pardon,” said John, 
whose thoughts had turned into speech too 
rapidly for his customary politeness to cut 
them short. “I mean, that that was rather 
a queer arrangement of matters.” 

“Come over to my studio. Cousin John, 
before it gets too dark to see my picture.” 

Laurie was already at his window arrang- 
ing to the best advantage the pretty landscape 
that had caused him so much disquietude, yet 
had been the means of gaining him the new 
box of paints. 

10* H 


114 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


Ah exclaimed John, but with the tone 
that expresses a polite intention rather than 
genuine surprise. Very good, Laurence ! It 
is a copy, I suppose 

A copy !” echoed Laurie indignantly. 
“If you’ll get up at five o’clock to-morrow 
morning and take a walk with me. I’ll show 
you the spot itself. I don’t need to copy 
other pictures when I have all Nature around 
Questiford to choose from.” 

“Very true,” responded John with obvious 
iudifference. “I took lessons in water-color 
one term.” 

“ Oh, did you ?” exclaimed Laurie with de- 
light. ^^I am so glad ! You must let me 
see some of your work. Have you a paint- 
box and things? I shall be so pleased to 
have somebody to go sketching with !” 

Laurie’s words poured forth with the rapid- 
ity of excitement, but they were checked by 
the sight of a smile exchanged between Edna 
and Rex that he felt had reference to him, and 
then still further checked by John’s response : 

“ I have a paint-box, yes, but I have noth- 
ing else to show you. I never painted but one 
picture, and that mother gave to one of her 
friends when we broke up to come East. 


JOHN. 


115 


There was a tree in it and some water — hills 
in the distance. I worked over it till I got 
tired, and then Professor Prigg finished it up 
for the examination. It was a great bore.’^ 

‘ Laurie’s gesture as he threw back his bang 
expressed his disappointment to those who 
knew his ways quite as well as words. 

^^That,” explained Edna, noting the direc- 
tion of John’s eyes, is Rex’s museum. Per- 
haps you will like to look at his birds and 
butterflies ?” 

It took her by surprise, however, in spite 
of her ‘‘perhaps,” when John stepped across 
to Rex’s territory and began examining the 
case of butterflies. Now came Rex’s turn to 
feel pleased. He took down his stuffed squir- 
rel, his owl, the case of insects, and his birds, 
and brought them to the light for inspection. 

“ Well, now,” said John, as if announcing 
a remarkable fact, “ that’s something I never 
tried to do. — Rex, whenever you get another 
bird or anything to stuff, I want you to let me 
see how you do it.” 

“ Yes, indeed,” promised Rex, his round eyes 
sparkling with anticipated pleasure; and he 
cast a triumphant glance toward Pierre and 
Laurence that said, “See, now, he belongs to 


116 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


me ; he cares more for the museum than any- 
thing else.” 

From that time John was Reginald's ac- 
knowledged podso. Among the Questiford 
school children this word belonged to the 
regular vocabulary in daily use, but perhaps 
it was a localism and needs explanation. 
When any two followed the same pursuits, 
and were in special sympathy with each 
other, they were called “ podsoes,” a simile 
drawn from the likeness of peas occupying 
the same pod. 

As we have suggested, it had been John 
Schenck’s misfortune to have everything he 
wanted, as long as his father’s money lasted. 
The result w’as, that there was no freshness 
of interest left in him ; he had tried and 
grown tired of many things before he was 
really advanced enough to appreciate them. 
Mechanical toys had had their day with him ; 
he had tried a velocipede, next a boat, then a 
pony. He had learned to play on the flute, 
but found it “ a bore,” and gave away his ex- 
pensive instrument. He had at one period 
expressed a desire for a printing-press, so of 
course a printing-press was sent for, and Mas- 
ter John set to work. It amused him at first; 


JOHN. 


117 


he printed cards for all his friends, and was 
much praised for his ingenuity. Finally, af- 
ter battering two or three founts of type and 
spoiling a quantity of stationery, he became 
disgusted with printing and sold his press to 
a schoolmate for a third of its original cost. 
His last fancy had been to learn the joiner’s 
trade, and during the few months he had 
spent at home since his father’s death he had 
made himself a voluntary apprentice to the 
cabinet-maker of the town, and had kept at 
this long enough to acquire some’ skill in the 
use of saw, plane, and chisel. In a short 
time this, like every other form of industry, 
had proved ‘^a bore” and been given up. 

It is not to be supposed that the energetic 
Mrs. Schenck had any intention of allowing 
her husband’s boy ” to grow up in idleness, 
now that she had the control of his move- 
ments. She was already in correspondence 
with a former business-associate of the late 
Mr. Schenck in regard to obtaining for John 
a situation in a wholesale mercantile establish- 
ment in New York. John submitted to this 
disposal of his future in his usual easy-going 
way ; he had yet two-thirds of the summer in 
which to enjoy his leisure. 


CHAPTER X. 


STOCKING AN AQUARIUM. 

O NE Saturday morning, when the first 
eastern glow was lighting the windows 
of John’s bed-room, there came a tap at the 
door, accompanied by Rex’s shrill whistle, and 
then the scratching of Victor’s paws, with a se- 
ries of staccato barks. John was not partial to 
early rising, and this unexpected call was not 
a bit welcome. He covered his head with the 
bed-clothes and resolved to make no answer, 
hoping that Rex would go away supposing 
him fast asleep. He miscalculated ; both dog 
and master had too much perseverance for that. 
The din kept up, whistle and call, bark, scratch, 
and whine, until, in fear that his mother would 
be wakened and come to see what was the mat- 
ter, John jumped up and opened the door. There 
stood Rex, dressed in an outgrown and much- 
patched suit of clothes, with a fishing-pole 
having a net at the end, a water-pail, and a 
118 


STOCKING AN AQUARIUM. 


119 


small basket; and there too stood Victor 
briskly wagging his tail. 

‘‘Whew!’^ exclaimed sleepy John, ^^what 
does all this mean?’^ 

Can’t stop to explain now,” said Rex 
briskly, ‘^but I’m starting off for a day’s 
tramp, and thought maybe you’d like to go 
with me.” 

John hesitated and yawned : You’re not 
going off before breakfast, are you?” 

“ Indeed I am, sir ; the best of the morning 
will be gone by the time breakfast is over. I’ve 
been dowm to the kitchen, though, and found 
some bread and meat; here’s some for you if 
you’ll go.” 

Rex presented his cousin with the heel of a 
loaf, on which he had placed a generous slice 
cut from the roast beef of the previous day’s 
dinner. John took it, with a smile at its di- 
mensions, and said, “ You’ll have my mother 
after you if you haggle her bread up that 
way.” 

Will you go or not?” asked Rex, growing 
impatient. 

^^Yes; wait two minutes, till I get my 
clothes on. Sit down, do.” 

So Rex sat down just inside the door, and 


I 

120 THE WILLOUGHBY BOY^. 

Victor rested on his haunches beside the 
basket and pail, while John made his toilet. 

Don’t put on those boots nor that good 
suit of clothes,” said Rex ; you’ll ruin them, 
for sure. Take the oldest suit you’ve got. 
See mine !” 

‘‘Haven’t any old suit,” replied John, to 
whom this was a new experience. 

“ Pierre has ; I can get them without dis- 
turbing anybody, for I know just where. 
They’ll fit you near enough, for you are al- 
most as tall as Pierre;” and before he had 
finished speaking Rex was oif on his volun- 
tary search, from which he presently return- 
ed with a much-spotted set of garments which 
had seen a good deal of service in the labor- 
atory; also a very rough-looking pair of boots. 

“I don’t know about those,” said John, 
gazing doubtfully at the wardrobe thus col- 
lected for him. “Will any one see us?” 

“Very likely,” was the laughing response; 
“we have to go right through the village. 
Ashamed, are you?” 

John did feel very much ashamed at the 
thought of being seen in such a costume, but 
he would not acknowledge it, and went brave- 
ly to work to get ready. 


STOCKING AN AQUARIUM. 121 

They fit you finely,” remarked Rex, who — 
mischievous fellow! — sat there hardly able to 
restrain the chuckle which was shaking his 
sides at the manifest discomfiture of his cousin. 

Hurry, please I There ! I wouldn’t stop for 
any more brushing and combing. Your hair 
is as smooth as an eel’s back already.” 

John did not relish such free remarks, for 
he was rather touchy, this Western boy, on 
the subject of his personal appearance ; never- 
theless, he could bear a good deal from Rex, 
w’ho was his favorite among the boys. At 
last he pronounced himself ready, and out 
they started, John making quite sure first by 
a peep into the basket that a sufficient lunch 
was provided. 

thought,” said Master Rex as they 
marched forth through the pleasant morning 
freshness, “that you Western folks were the 
best people in the world at roughing it.” 

“ I am not a specimen of the class of West- 
erners you mean,” replied John with dignity. 
“ There are all sorts of people West, as well 
as East. For myself, I never could see any 
virtue in having things uncomfortable when 
you weren’t obliged to.” 

The two boys with their accoutrements, and 
11 


122 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


Victor following, could hardly fail to attract 
some attention as they passed through the vil- 
lage, particularly as Victor was inclined to 
exchange salutations with every dog on the 
way. A few early-rising housekeepers were 
stirring, and in one yard a man was out 
chopping wood. Rex noticed with amuse- 
ment that his companion pulled his hat down 
over his face in passing these. 

As they passed Robby Remsen’s house Rex 
paused and gave a loud whistle. This was 
echoed from within, and with hardly a mo- 
ment’s delay the door opened and out shuffled 
the long-legged Reed. 

’Mornin’,” said he, accosting John, at the 
same time giving him a glance of investiga- 
tion. The two boys had met before, but not 
in a way to get much acquainted, for the 

Willoughby shadow ” had almost ceased his 
visits to Pantops of late, through a bashful 
dread of meeting the new-comers. It was as 
well for him that he had, for Mrs. Schenck, 
had she caught him passing through the house 
in his usual way, would have turned him out 
with as little hesitation as she did Victor. 

“ What’s up ?” was Reed’s concise question 
as the three marched along the road together. 


STOCKING AN AQUAEIUM. 123 

‘‘Aquarium/^ was Kex’s equally concise 
response. 

Hm-m-m !” mused Eeed. Never heard 
o’ sech a critter ; lives in the woods, does it ?” 

This question at once dissipated the feeling 
of strangeness among the trio of boys. John 
shouted with laughter, Eex chuckled, and 
Eeed, accepting the joke, even though at his 
own expense, gave a wondering smile. 

As soon as the little naturalist could control 
his muscles he enlightened Eeed as to the ob- 
ject of the day’s expedition: ^^An aquarium 
isn’t an animal ; it is just a thing with water 
in it, and you put plants and fishes and shells 
in it, and keep it to study.” 

Study?” echoed John. thought an 

aquarium was only something pretty to look 
at.” 

It is pretty — real pretty, if it’s made right 
— but then it’s something better,” said Eex. 

Now, I want to find out how the little crea- 
tures live that are in the water ; I want to 
learn what they eat and how they behave 
themselves.” 

“ You know enough about ’em already,” re- 
marked Eeed. — Never saw any boy take so 
to livin’ critters,” he added, turning with a 


124 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


bashful attempt at conversation toward John. 

Things in the water and things on land, it’s 
all the same to him. I b’lieve Pex’d like to 
be a fish or a bird himself.” 

^'Indeed I wouldn’t,” rejoined Rex. “If I 
were an animal myself, how could I find out 
the habits of the others ? No, I just want to 
be a boy, with nothing to do but loaf around 
in the woods. I’d like to be a sort of Robin- 
son Crusoe, and have Reed for my man Friday. 
A desert island full of specimens all to ourselves, 
that would be jolly, eh, Reed ?” 

But Reed had never read Robinson Crusoe, 
and wisely refused to commit himself. 

By this time the rapid walk of the boys had 
brought them out of sight and sound of any 
but the feathered and four-footed inhabitants 
of the wood, and presently they reached the 
side of a shady little pond. 

“ Here’s my place,” exclaimed Rex, pointing 
to a large stone projecting into the water. 

“ Minnies enough there, if you want ’em,” 
said Reed. 

Rex made no answer ; he was busy counting 
over the various pieces of property required for 
the day’s needs. Victor deposited the tin pail 
at his master’s feet; Reed surrendered the fish- 


STOCKING AN AQUARIUM. 125 

ing-pole, his share of the burden; and John 
handed over the lunch-basket. 

A pretty place/’ remarked the young West- 
erner as he looked around, meanwhile dusting 
himself off with his handkerchief. 

I’m glad you think so,” said Rex. ^‘You’ve 
seen a great many places in your travels, no 
doubt, John, but I am not willing to believe 
any of them can beat Questiford.” 

Questiford ? What an odd name for a 
town !” said John, who deemed it not politic 
to make a direct answer. “Why did they 
call it that?” 

“I have heard that the first settlers here 
had been wandering about for a good while 
looking for a suitable place for a village, and 
that their great difficulty was in finding suffi- 
cient water ; when they reached this neighbor- 
hood their ^ quest’ was at an end, so they con- 
cluded to build here, and named the place 
Questiford.” 

“Well done!” said John; “that’s quite a 
history for a small village. Your forefathers 
showed their good taste, anyway.” 

Rex’s attention was now bestowed on the 
day’s business. Having given his fishing-net 
into Reed’s care with minute instructions, he 
11 * 


126 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


announced to John that he was going to walk 
on a little farther to get some snails. 

Bah said that young gentleman, making 
a wry face. I think I prefer staying here with 
Beed. Where do you find your snails 

‘^Beside stones generally, near the water; 
they are very retiring little creatures.” 

Nasty things, ugh ! How do you get them 
when you find them ?” 

^^Get them? Why, what do you mean? I 
have only to pick them up. Snails are not very 
swift at running away, you know.” 

Pick them up ? With your fingers ?” 

^^Of course; how else?” said Bex, much 
amused at his companion’s expression of dis- 
gust. ‘^They are pretty little things.” 

I guess I wasn’t meant to be a naturalist,” 
remarked John with slow seriousness. He fol- 
lowed Bex for a few steps, notwithstanding his 
manifest repugnance for the objects of his search, 
‘and watched him move one or two stones, and 
finally pick up a couple of the “nasty things” 
and place them with great care in the tin pail. 

“ So, that’s what you brought the pail for ? 
I hope my mother will have it well scoured 
before she has it used again in the kitchen,” 
said John. 


STOCKING AN AQUARIUM. 127 

Rex did not answer aloud, but to himself 
he said that of all the fellows he had ever met, 
his cousin John was the one he should most 
enjoy playing off a practical joke upon. It 
would be such fun to see him frightened out 
of his wits by secreting a toad in his pocket 
or an assortment of bugs in his bureau-drawer. 
But Rex’s fun was always held in restraint by 
his kindness of heart, and he would not hurt 
anything intentionally, from an insect up to 
the feelings of his cousin John. 

Are the snails to go in your aquarium ?” 
asked the latter. 

Rex nodded. 

‘‘ What for ? Surely you don’t put them in 
for beauty?” 

Not exactly, although I do like to watch 
them very much. Snails help to keep the 
water clear; that is a very necessary thing 
in an aquarium.” 

Well, I’ve learned something,” said John 
good-naturedly. I am glad there’s some- 
thing good even in snails. Now tell me 
what sort of thing have you for your aqua- 
rium? I begin to be interested.” 

Rex believed that he really was, for, instead 
of rejoining Reed and Victor at the quiet 


128 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


task of fishing for minnows and guarding 
the lunch-basket, lie was still keeping up with 
him, pausing whenever he did to look at plant 
or insect or stone on the way. 

Oh, I’m doing things on a very small 
scale, John,” said he; I’ve only got a glass 
jar for my water-garden. It’s a big one, 
though — the biggest I ever saw. I hope we 
can get things enough to make it look 
pretty.” 

What else do you want besides snails and 
minnows?” asked John. 

few little stones, some sand and dirt, 
and, if I can find them, I want two or three 
tadpoles.” 

Why don’t you get some gold-fishes, 
Rex? They are the proper thing for an 
aquarium.” 

^‘Yes, but, you see, I can’t afford to buy 
gold-fishes ; I must be satisfied with what 
can be caught in the waters of Questiford.” 

^^Well, but gold-fishes must be caught 
somewhere. I never thought about it till 
this minute,” said John; “where do they 
get them?” 

“From China; that is, they are very com- 
mon in China, and were brought from there 


STOCKING AN AQUARIUM. 129 

in the first place, but now they are common 
enQugh in this country.” 

Presently Eex announced that he had cap- 
tured snails enough for his purpose, and the 
two boys turned back to rejoin Keed. They 
found him stretched at full length on the 
grass, fast asleep, while Victor, wide awake 
and eager for excitement, gave a series of 
short barks to indicate his pleasure at the 
return of his master. Peed had caught sev- 
eral “minnies,” as the boys called them. The 
day’s work was progressing very favorably 
for the young naturalist. 

Eeed roused up at the sound of the dog’s 
bark, and looked a little sheepish at having 
been caught napping so early in the day. 
“ Had sech a toothache all night !” said he, 
by way of apology — ‘^didn’t sleep a wink 
hardly.” 

'^You ought not to haVe come out, then, 
to-day,” said John; ^^you may take cold in 
the tooth sitting here by the water.” 

“ Oh, that’s nuthin’ — do it every day ; be- 
sides, I knew Eex couldn’t get on without 
me. — Could ye now, Eex?” 

Eex’s response to this pointed question was 
slow in coming, and ere the contest between 
I 


130 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


kindness and truth had come to an end in his 
mind a new subject of interest came up and 
made any answer unnecessary. 

Sticklebacks !” exclaimed E-eed. ^‘1 seen 
a splendid fellow just then, with his spines all 
out ready for a fight. He’d look fine in your 
’quarium, eh, Eex ?” 

Both boys drew closer to the water’s edge, 
and, following the direction of Eeed’s eyes, 
saw a tiny fish of brilliant red-and-gold col- 
oring, but with dangerous-loooking spines 
sticking out from its body. 

Reg’lar hedgehog, he is !” said Reed. 

He’s been havin’ a fight, you see.” 

‘^How do you know that?” asked John. 

The blacksmith’s son cast an eager glance 
at his friend’s guest, as if to make sure that 
the question was an honest one and that 
there was no chaffing intended ; then, with 
evident pride at knowing something of which 
so fine a young gentleman was ignorant, he 
explained that the male stickleback was a 
fighting character ; that if any other fish came 
within reach while he was guarding his nest 
with his young family in it, there was sure to 
be a mortal combat ; and that after the battle 
the conquering stickleback appeared in bright- 


STOCKING AN AQUARIUM. 131 

er colors than before, but if worsted in the 
affray he retreated in the water in a quiet suit « 
of gray. 

Who told you all that?’’ asked John, still 
doubting the abiliJy of a rough, untaught fel- 
low like this to give him any information. 

Reed grinned with pleasure: “Don’t need 
nobody to tell me; I watch the critters, and 
see for myself how they act. Knowed all 
about sticklebacks and sech ever since I was 
so high and he held his hand out above the 
ground a short distance to indicate a very 
small child. 

“Well,” continued he, addressing Rex, 
“shall I catch one for you?” 

Rex looked doubtful. “ They do put stick- 
lebacks in aquaria,” said he, “ but it must be 
in larger ones than mine; they need more 
room than they would have in my jar. I 
guess we’d better be content with minnies 
and snails and — By the way, I wonder 
where we can find any tadpoles?” 

“ I know,” exclaimed Reed, rising quickly 
from the grass, on which he had again flung 
himself. “ There’s a great puddleful of 
’em up the road a piece; come along and 
I’ll show you.” 


132 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


Rex made a movement to follow Reed, but 
John only said, ^^Hm-m-m!’^ and drew out his 
watch. 

I think it’s pretty near time for lunch,” 
said he ; tadpoles may be enough for you 
two, but I’d prefer something to eat.” 

The other boys good-humoredly gave in to 
John’s reasonable suggestion, and agreed to 
postpone the search for tadpoles until they 
had emptied the lunch-basket. The two 
Questiford lads were quite satisfied with the 
simple lunch which Rex had hastily procured 
from the Pan tops larder, but to John the loss 
of a regular dinner was an event that cast a 
gloom over his feelings. 

It’s all very well,” said he, to take a 
moderate walk in the morning, and get back 
in time to brush up for dinner, but wasting 
the best part of a day hunting up slimy little 
things is not to my taste.” 

That is because you’re not used to it,” said 
Rex kindly. “When you have been in the 
country a short time you’ll get up an interest 
in such things — maybe.” It must be owned 
that “maybe” was the most emphatic word 
in the sentence. 

“I’ll tell you what,” said John: “you two 


STOCKING AN AQUARIUM. 133 

look for your tadpoles, and 1^11 gather some 
pretty stones for the aquarium.” 

That’s a good fellow !” was Rex’s hearty 
response. I want a lot of stones, and I want 
some of the little plants you see growing un- 
der the water all along here; if you would 
get a few, that would help finely.” 

Rex and Reed started ofiP, and Victor fol- 
lowed. It proved a greater distance to the 
tadpole-puddle than Reed had supposed, and 
more than an hour elapsed ere they returned 
with their lively little prizes. When at last 
they drew near the spot where they had left 
John, they hallooed and whistled to him to 
announce their approach, but no answer was 
given. 

“He has wandered off somewhere looking 
for things,” suggested Rex. 

“ More like he’s got tired and gone home,” 
said Reed. 

Neither of these suppositions proved the 
correct one. As they came up to the open 
space where they had sat to eat their luncheon 
a sound of splashing and flopping attracted 
their attention to the stream where it flowed 
past the large flat stone where the party had 
at first halted. 


12 


134 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


John has gone fishing in good earnest,” 
said Hex. 

Help ! help ! hurry !” roared John, spitting 
out water between the words. 

Fortunately, the stream was not very deep, 
and there was no danger. Either of the other 
boys would have made light of the situation 
and scrambled to dry land without more ado, 
but poor John was quite Unused to that sort 
of adventure. His head as it came out of the 
water looked shinier and sleeker than ever, and 
the condition of his collar and cuffs was piti- 
able. The others could not help laughing, 
and John, to whom the affair was no joke at 
all, began to get angry. The laugh, how- 
ever, lasted but a moment, and before John 
was ready to splutter forth his indignation 
Eeed had off his shoes — he wore no stock- 
ings — had rolled up his pants, and was wad- 
ing in to the rescue of his unlucky compan- 
ion. A moment more, and the victim of 
scientific research stood dripping and sad on 
dry ground. The account he gave of himself 
was that he had caught sight of a tangle of 
pretty weed some distance out in the water, 
and that, stretching himself at full length on 
the flat stone, he had attempted to reach it; 


STOCKING AN AQUARIUM. 135 

but the weed was farther off than he had 
thought it, and the stone proved slippery, so 
that the sad result had been naturally brought 
about. 

John’s lips were white and he was shaking 
with the chill caused by his unexpected plunge. 
The other boys did the best for him they could : 
Rex squeezed the water from his hair, and 
dried it as well as possible with his handker- 
chief ; Reed took off his own jacket and put it 
around him, and urged Rex to assist him in 
getting home speedily, promising to follow on 
with the things himself. Victor, who under- 
stood the state of things as well as anybody, 
ran on ahead, barking all the way back to 
Pantops, and succeeded in bringing Mrs. 
Schenck and Edna out as far as the elms to 
see what was the matter. If John had felt 
sensitive about being looked at when he pass- 
ed through Questiford Village that morning, 
much more so did he feel on returning in so 
sad a plight. Pierre’s dirty old suit had been 
bad enough, said this particular young gentle- 
man to himself, but Pierre’s old suit drenched 
and torn, with Reed Remsen’s miserable jack- 
et as a supplement, was a good deal worse. 
The women met the returning excursionists 


136 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


with characteristic greeting. Edna, full of 
sympathy, hastened to throw her own light 
shawl over the still dripping garments, say- 
ing, Oh, Cousin John, I am so sorry ! Get 
up stairs as quick as you can, and Rex shall 
build you a fire and help you change your 
clothes, and 1^11 go at once to the kitchen and 
make you a cup of hot tea.” 

John’s mother received him with the grim 
remark, “ John Schenck, I do believe you are 
getting a bigger dunce tlian ever. Didn’t 
know any better than to tumble in the water, 
eh?” 


CHAPTEK XI. 

SCROLL-SA WING. 

E dna Willoughby had loDg been 

promising herself the great treat of a 
visit to a former schoolmate whose home was 
in an attractive region on the coast of Maine. 
The right time for this visit had never seemed 
to present itself. Hitherto, with the cares of 
a household upon her, she had taken comfort 
in the thought that the boys could never by 
any possibility get along without her. Now 
the all-sufficient presence of Aunt Schenck 
freed her from household responsibilities, and 
good old Auntie Blanche had got well again, 
and was quite competent to darn socks for 
the boys, and be company for them too dur- 
ing their odd moments in the Look-out Room. 
Edna wrote to her friend, therefore, that she 
intended to spend the month of July with her, 
and began to make her preparations accord- 
ingly. To John, who still entered the Look- 


138 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


out Room only as a visitor, she offered to 
loan her side, giving him generous permis- 
sion to move away her desk and put in its 
place whatever he liked. 

“But I don’t like anything much,” had 
been his listless reply, “and everythipg is 
such a bother.” 

“You might bring up your books here 
and study,” was Pierre’s suggestion one day 
before Edna’s departure. 

“ Bah !” said John. “ I had enough of that 
at school to last me a lifetime.” 

Pierre sighed and said to himself, “Ah, if I 
had only had such a chance !” 

“ Get a fiddle or a flute, then,” advised Laurie, 
“ and try your hand at music.” 

“ I had a flute once,” said John ; “ it was a 
great bore. The fact is,” coiBplained this un- 
fortunate boy, “I can’t bear this continual 
work ! work ! work ! I never saw such boys 
as you are. Now, when other fellows get a 
little time to themselves they go in for hav- 
ing some fun, but you — you plod along like 
middle-aged men.” 

“ Well, John,” said Pierre with a smile, 
“ we like fun too just as well as anybody. 
Tell us what kind of fun you want.” 


SOEOLL-SAWING. 


139 


Hm-m-m,” said John dubiously ; there’s 
baseball, and there’s croquet — everybody plays 
croquet — there’s boating. Now, why don’t you 
boys have a boat? — you’ve got a real good place 
for it, I’m sure.” 

‘^The stream?” said Rex mischievously. 
“Oh, that’s better suited to go bathing in, 
you see.” 

“ I suppose the real fact with us is, that we 
each have something we like much better than 
croquet or boating to fill up our odd moments,” 
said Pierre; “ but there’s no reason, John, why 
you should not have a boat if you wish, or a 
croquet set either. We might all go shares and 
send for one.” 

“No, no,” said John hastily; “I don’t care 
a pin for either of them. There’s no fun un- 
less you all had time to enjoy them too.” 

“We would take time,” said Laurie with an 
elfort at unselfishness. — “ Wouldn’t we, boys?” 

“Yes, certainly,” said the others. 

John, however, had too little interest in 
either boating or croquet to accept what he so 
well knew would be a hard sacrifice for his cou- 
sins. The odd moments in the Look-out Room 
were the bits of real pleasure sandwiched be- 
tween the hours of their prosaic lives. 


140 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


I’ll tell you what, boys,” said he with sud- 
den brightening : I’ll have a scroll-saw.” 

This announcement was received with sur- 
prise. 

^^Why, John,” said Laurie, ^^I thought you 
had tried everything that a boy could do ? How 
is it you’ve never had a scroll-saw ?” 

I have told you — haven’t I ? — about my 
working at the cabinet-maker’s shop? I got 
quite handy with tools there, and I suppose 
that satisfied me at the time other boys were 
getting the mania for fret-carving.” 

What has pnt it in your head now to get 
one?” asked Rex. 

I saw an advertisement in the paper I got 
yesterday of a new kind that I believe I should 
like better than any others I have seen. I no- 
tice you have not many fancy things for such a 
big house as this is, and I thought it would be 
nice while Edna is away to make a pair of 
brackets or something like that to give her. 
It will amuse me.” 

You’re real kind to think about doing that 
for Edna,” said Laurie, who always warmed 
toward the person who showed kind feeling 
to his sister. 

“ I’m glad I thought of the saw,” remarked 


SCROLL-SAWING. 


141 


John. will help pass away some of my 

^odd moments.’ I’ll send off an order to-mor- 
row, and have it here by the last of the week.” 

It was agreed that Edna should not be told 
of John’s scheme of industry, so that the brack- 
ets might be a surprise to her when she should 
come home. She therefore started on her jour- 
ney in entire ignorance of the scroll-saw, which 
arrived the day after her departure, and was 
forthwith established, in place of her dear 
old desk, at the west window of the Look-out 
Room. Every member of the family rejoiced 
over this new acquisition. Even Mrs. Schenck, 
to whom John’s idle habits and continual ques- 
tion, ^^What shall I do with myself?” were a 
source of great annoyance, welcomed the ap- 
pearance of an article which suggested work. 
John was all impatience to begin sawing, and 
chafed at the delay necessary for obtaining 
wood of the proper thickness; this could not 
be found in Questiford, where no work in 
wood was done more delicate than making 
a kitchen-table, and so had to be ordered from 
the nearest town. In the mean time John bus- 
ied himself in preparing patterns. One sheet 
of these came with the saw, but nothing it con- 
tained was the exact style that John wanted. 


142 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


His imagination pictured as the gift that was 
to surprise his cousin Edna a pair of brackets 
of unsurpassed delicacy of workmanship; he 

wouldn’t have any of these common things, 
such as everybody makes/’ he said. For a 
couple of days, therefore, whenever the young 
Willoughbys came home from work or school, 
John was sure to be found with pencil and pa- 
per bending over Laurie’s table inventing pat- 
terns. Polite Laurie had not a word to say 
against this, and, like the others, was well 
pleased that anything should be found to 
amuse John; but, for all that, it was a sore 
trial to him to find his choice pencils rapidly 
diminishing in length, and his carefully-ar- 
ranged drawer thrown in unprecedented dis- 
order by John’s repeated searches for paper, 
rubber, and other things. 

What do you think of this design ?” asked 
John, holding out a paper for Pierre’s inspec- 
tion as the latter entered the Look-out Room, 
hot and hurried, at noon, to note the condition 
of certain chemicals with which he wanted to 
experiment. 

He stepped at once to the table and took the 
paper from John’s hands. 

I have been working away at this pretty 


SCROLL-SAWING. 


143 


near all the morning/’ said John, ^‘but I be- 
lieve I have hit it at last.” 

“Very good, indeed !” was Pierre’s encour- 
aging comment — “a very neat pattern, and 
does you credit, John.” 

“ Can you suggest any alteration ? You 
see, I want to have it all perfect, so that if the 
wood should come this afternoon I can cut it 
out.” 

Pierre on this made a more critical exami- 
nation of the design. “ If there is anything,” 
said he slowly, “ to be called in question, it is 
the position of the cat on that large branch ; 
wouldn’t it be more natural for the cat to be 
at the base ? But perhaps you can’t alter that 
without spoiling the whole thing. I don’t 
know that it makes any particular diifer- 
ence.” 

John hastily took the paper from Pierre’s 
hand. “ Cat !” said he ; and the tone showed 
Pierre that he had made some unhappy blun- 
der. “ It is not a cat ; it is an owl. The owl is 
Minerva’s bird, suggestive of authorship and 
all that, and so appropriate for Edna. So it 
looks like a cat, does it? Well, I may as 
well give up and do just the common things 
everybody does.” 


144 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


Pierre would have given his day’s earnings 
for power to recall his unfortunate words, but 
there was no help now. He was glad that at 
the moment Laurie appeared at the door to 
summon them down to dinner. ‘^Here’s 
Laurie,” said he to John; ^^show him the 
design. He has a much better eye for such 
things than I have.” 

Laurie stepped briskly toward the table, 
interested as soon as he caught the word 

design.” 

See what a good bracket-pattern John has 
made,” said Pierre. “ It’s an owl on a branch,” 
added he, in great fear lest his brother should 
repeat his own mistake. 

“ Owl ! A cat, you mean,” was Laurie’s 
innocent comment. Good for you, John ! 
That will make a very pretty thing when it 
is cut.” 

Laurie wondered at the silence which fol- 
lowed these words of approval. He looked 
from Pierre to John, and again back at Pierre, 
and then all three boys burst out laughing. It 
was the best thing they could do. 

^^My poor owl !” exclaimed John, but with- 
out any ill-humor in his tone. “I have 
worked so hard over it, and have been trying 


SCROLL-SAWING. 


145 


to make it as much like Rex’s stuffed one up 
there as possible.” 

’Tisn’t bad,” said Laurie consolingly ; 
and when it is cut in wood nobody would 
know but that it was an owl — maybe,” added 
he, being forced by his truthfulness to add the 
qualifying word. But,” he added, touched 
by John’s discouraged air, can alter this 
very easily ; that is, if you’ll trust your design 
to my hands. I have not had much practice at 
drawing birds, but, with Rex’s owl up there to 
look at, I think I can make it all right.” 

Laurie held out his hand, and John yielded 
up to him the paper, which he had begun to 
crush when Laurie, echoing Pierre’s criti- 
cism, pronounced his owl a cat. 

The wood arrived in due time, and the 
pieces for Edna’s brackets were selected, white 
and dark, for the work was to be inlaid ; and 
pretty soon the sawing began. The noise of 
it set Victor barking and Mrs. Schenck scold- 
ing, and Auntie Blanche was forced to desert 
her usual seat in the Look-out Room and re- 
tire to her own apartment, sighing for the 
quietness of the times when the scratching of 
Miss Edna’s pen had been the only sound to 
disturb her meditations. 


13 


K 


146 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


John went at the sawing — as he did at 
every other new pursuit in its turn — with a 
perfect fury of enthusiasm. Broken saws and 
spoiled pieces of wood marked his progress. 
He was out of patience with himself for find- 
ing any difficulty with so simple a machine. 
Had he not learned to use tools and to do 
much more difficult work ? He forgot that he 
was somewhat out of practice, and also that the • 
scroll-saw needed different management from 
the stronger tools to which he had been accus- 
tomed. Laurie had improved the owl, so that 
it could no longer be mistaken for a cat. The 
backs of the brackets were cut out and neatly 
fitted together. John rejoiced in his success, 
and declared that he meant to keep to the 
scroll-saw ; it was decidedly the most interest- 
ing thing he had ever tried. Alas! a difficulty 
arose. He had not been accurate in his mea- 
surements, and when the shelf part of the 
brackets was cut and adjusted to the back, it 
was found to be too short by half an inch. In 
vain did the Willoughby boys strive to en- 
courage their cousin to cut a new pair of 
shelves, representing to him that, as all the 
difficult parts were finished, it would be a 
great pity to let the brackets fail of com pie- 


SCROLL-SAWING. 


147 


tion because of this mistake; but John was 
stubborn and hopeless. He refused to worry 
with the old thing any longer.’^ 

Laurie quietly resolved that Edna should 
not lose the promised gift because of John’s 
lack of application. Much to the surprise of 
the rest of the household, he seated himself at 
the innocent but much-abused saw and tried 
his skill on a bit of wood. 

You never can do it,” said John, who felt 
not altogether pleased that his cousin should 
attempt to succeed in that at which he had 
made a failure. It will take a week of ^ odd 
moments’ to get the right motion of the foot, 
and then you’ll break no end of saw-blades.” 

^^You sent for a gross, didn’t you?” asked 
Laurie. 

^^Yes.” 

How many have you left ?” 

Fully six dozen, perhaps more.” 

^^I’ll buy them from you if you are will- 
ing,” said Laurie. 

‘^Oh take them for nothing if you are so 
in earnest about the thing,” said John, rather 
crossly. ‘‘You’ll find them in your table- 
drawer.” 

“ Thank you, John. Are you really will- 


148 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


ing that I should use the saw until I finish 
these brackets?’^ 

Use it all the time, for what I care,” said 
John ; I shall never bother with it again.” 

Pierre, who, busy among his, chemicals on 
the opposite side of the room, had heard this 
brief conversation, did not approve of his 
brother’s taking John’s one occupation so 
completely out of his hands, but thought it 
best not to interfere in the matter. It turned 
out that while Laurie, at odd moments, morn- 
ing, noon, and night, was patiently learning 
the motion of the foot and the manner of turn- 
ing the wood in the saw-frame, an order was 
on its way from Pantops for a new supply of 
saws and an assortment of patterns. 

When these arrived by express the week fol- 
lowing, addressed to Master John Schenck,” 
that young gentleman was having a fit of the 
blues, and his mother was suffering constant 
annoyance from the old question, What shall 
I do with myself?” 

The brackets, being neatly finished, much 
•to John’s mortification, were pronounced by 
the family in council to be the very things 
to place in Edna’s room on either side of the 
bureau, and to afford a resting-place, for two 


SCROLL-SAWING. 


149 


Parian dogs that had been standing help- 
lessly around ever since she got them, hav- 
ing no definite position anywhere. Laurie 
put up the brackets and attached a slip of 
paper to the one nearest the door on which 
was written, Edna Willoughby, from her 
cousin John Sch^nck.” The family were 
called in to pass judgment on the position 
of the new ornaments. John at once noticed 
the paper, and went up to examine it; then 
without a word he removed it from its place, 
unobserved by Laurie. As soon as the other 
boys were out of the house he placed another 
paper on the bracket, announcing it as 
gift from her affectionate brother Laurence.’’ 
The next day this paper was in its turn re- 
moved, and the original name replaced. 
Pierre, who discovered the friendly contest 
between the boys, settled it by writing on 
another paper and fastening it to the bracket, 
‘‘Edna, from her cousin John and brother 
Laurence — a mutual gift.” 

A few warm, weary days, destitute of any 
employment save reading a few old magazines, 
and strolling occasionally through the village, 
were sufficient to make John very much pleas- 
ed at the arrival of the package by express. 

13 * ■ 


150 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


The patterns were pronounced ^4ip-top,” and 
a fresh impulse was given toward the rejected 
occupation. He went to work at once at a 
paper-knife, which was accomplished with- 
out any drawback saving the breakage of a 
number of saws, and was most satisfactory in 
the result. He wondered again and again who 
could have sent him the patterns, but Pierre 
kept his own counsel, and felt abundantly re- 
paid by witnessing the success of his plan. 
In a short time — for when John once got in- 
terested in any work he kept at it faithfully — 
a number of pretty articles were finished. A 
pen-holder was in 'readiness to grace Edna’s 
desk when it should again be established in 
its place; a spool-box was presented to Mrs. 
Schenck; and a wall-pocket adorned the fam- 
ily sitting-room for the convenience of all. 
Besides these completed articles, the floor of 
the newly-established work-shop was strewn 
with fragments of wood that had by some in- 
opportune crack or incorrect sawing fallen 
short of the perfection which John exacted 
of himself in all his work. In spite of the 
noise and dirt occasioned by the scroll-saw, 
its presence at Pantops was felt by all the 
household to be a real blessing. 


CHAPTER XIL 
PROFESSOR COLEMAN. 

I T was a parched afternoon in August. 

Pantops looked hot and deserted. There 
was no stir among the branches of the great 
elms to indicate that they possessed any more 
life than the walls of the* house. On the 
warm grass in the back yard lay Victor pant- 
ing, trying to obtain shelter from the sun by 
means of the clothes hung on the lines to 
dry, for it happened to be washing-day. In 
the old summer-house, so overgrown with 
vines that now it seemed but one immense 
trellis for their support, lay John, extended 
at full length on its wide settee. His broad- 
brimmed hat was flung on the ground; his 
jacket, collar, and cravat were suspended on 
the little branches that here and there had 
forced their way in through the lattice-work. 
A magazine and a palm-leaf fan, fallen to 
the ground beside him,- showed that sleep 

151 


152 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


had overtaken him unawares while trying his 
best to keep mind and body comfortable. 

All these details were taken in at a glance 
by a gentleman who stood with a large um- 
brella in one hand and a small bag in the 
other, gazing with a pleased smile in through 
the summer-house door. 

Which of the boys can this be?” said he 
to himself. Not a Willoughby feature in 
that face — not like the mother, either.” 

Nobody could stand long in that precise 
spot with the sun beating on his back to solil- 
oquize over any ‘subject, however interesting, 
and the traveller, after setting down his bag 
long enough to make a little use of John^s fan, 
turned and walked slowly toward the front en- 
trance. The house appeared to be taking a 
nap as well as the boy ; its green blinds were 
tightly shut like the eyelids of a torpid mon- 
ster; the utter silence appeared inhospitable 
to the weary man, who had got out of the 
stage at the other end of the village and 
walked up the long ascent of Questiford\s one 
street. Mrs. Schenck, who chanced to be on 
her regular afternoon dusting-tour through 
the house, luckily opened the door to drive 
out a refractory bluebottle fly. 


PROFESSOR COLEMAN. 


153 


The thrifty housekeeper, intent only on her 
fly, was not a little startled at sight of a 
strange man just stepping on the portico. 
Her instant thought w^as of retreat, for her 
crimps were not in company order and her 
calico wrapper was a sadly patched and faded 
affair ; she had put it on because it was cooler 
this sultry day than any other dress in her 
wardrobe. One keen glance at the small bag 
the stranger held changed this impulse into 
one of indignation. 

“We never encourage agents,’^ she said, and 
was about to close the door in the man’s face, 
but he defeated her purpose by suddenly put- 
ting his foot on the sill. 

“ One moment, madam, please and he 
fumbled in his vest-pocket for a card. 

“ You need not get out any samples,” said 
Mrs. Schenck. “ What I want I buy at the 
stores ; I don’t encourage such idle, loafing 
business as selling things from door to door.” 

He held out a card to her with a smile 
which she considered impudent, and therefore 
would not suffer her eyes to rest upon it. 

“ Eliza Willoughby ! I can’t be mistaken !” 
exclaimed the stranger with a sudden certainty 
of recognition. 


154 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


Mrs. Schenck dropped her duster in utter 
amazement and put up her hand to her crimps, 
as the idea that this was not an agent, after 
all, but an acquaintance of the family, dawned 
upon her mind. She scrutinized the face be-" 
fore her with the same keenness which she 
used in inspecting her groceries before pur- 
chasing. The gentleman stood with polite 
endurance still on the step, waiting for the 
lady’s memory to do its work, until, compelled 
by heat and fatigue, he brought the uncomfort- 
able pause to a close by pronouncing the name 
she had refused to read on the card : ^^Anthony 
Coleman.” 

Anthony Coleman ?” repeated the lady with 
emphasis. Well, I am fairly beat ! I should 
as soon have thought of seeing — Well now, 
do tell where you came from, and all about it. 
It must be every day of twenty years since 
your last visit to Pantops.” 

Mrs. Schenck led the way, as she spoke, to 
the parlor, and strove to atone for her rudeness 
to the supposed peddler by all possible atten- 
tion to the discovered friend. 

“ The last time you were here was when 
poor Henry was alive,” she said with a sigh. 

^^A great deal must have happened to you . 


PROFESSOR COLEMAN. 


155 


as well as to myself in that time ; I have come 
fifty miles out of my way to see the old place 
' and the old friends.” 

And, after all, came near being sent away 
as a peddler !” said Mrs. Schenck, both amused 
and vexed at her blunder. ‘^Now, if you’ll ex- 
cuse me, Anthony, I will go and see to having 
a room put in order for you.” 

'^Very good !” replied the guest. ‘‘I came 
with the intention of spending a week at old 
Pantops, provided I received an invitation.” 

During his mother’s absence from the parlor 
John came sauntering into the room, looking 
more comfortable than elegant in his shirt- 
sleeves and with his collar and cravat in hand. 
He went whistling across to the piano, and at- 
tempted to strike the keynote of his tiine. 
The room was so dark that he had not ob- 
served the presence of Professor Coleman, who 
was sitting on the sofa. 

Good-afternoon, young man,” said the pro- 
fessor, and came forward with outstretched hand. 

I suppose you are Pierre Willoughby ? Do you 
know, Mr. Pierre, I had a fine opportunity of 
becoming acquainted with your features a short 
time since in the summer-house ? Do you feel 
refreshed by your nap ?” 


156 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


John was as much astonished at this sudden 
apparition as his mother had been, and had no 
means, even by use of his memory, of learn- 
ing who the stranger was ; he hastened, how- 
ever, to correct the impression that he was 
Pierre by announcing that he was John 
Schenck, Pierre’s cousin. 

John Schenck ?” repeated the gentleman, 
holding the boy at arm’s length and scrutiniz- 
ing his face with a pair of eyes sunk far under 
the shadow of heavy brows. knew the 
family tree of the Willoughbys, root and 
branch, when I was a youngster, but I do 
not recollect the name of Schenck occurring 
therein.” 

John explained the matter to the satisfaction 
of the professor, who still seemed to find it 
amusing that Eliza Willoughby should ever 
have married, or rather, as it seemed to John, 
that somebody should have married her. By 
the time Mrs. Schenck returned — this time 
with her best black dress and revived crimps 
— to announce that Professor Coleman’s room 
was ready, John and he had become pleasantly 
acquainted, and it was with great satisfaction 
that the former heard that the visit of his new 
friend was to extend over a week. There’ll 


PROFESSOR COLEMAN. 


157 


be something to amuse a fellow/’ he remarked 
to himself as he went to his room to don a 
fresh suit and put an extra polish on both hair 
and boots. 

The Willoughby boys greeted with delight 
this old friend of their father’s youth. The 
name of Anthony Coleman was not altogether 
unknown to them, for it occurred several times 
in the Family Record ” in connection with 
amusing pranks of their father’s boyhood, 
and once there was an account in their mother’s 
writing of a pleasant visit from her husband’s 
friend, Anthony Coleman, and of his gift to 
her little girl of a pretty gold chain and lock- 
et. This last visit had been previous to Pierre’s 
birth, so that Edna was the only one of the 
family to whom a personal recollection would 
be possible ; and she, unfortunately, was still 
absent. 

During the long interval the professor had 
himself married, gone abroad, lost his wife, re- 
turned to America, and settled down as pro- 
fessor of chemistry in one of the aspiring 
young colleges of the West. During the 
summer vacation he had been invited to de- 
liver a course of lectures in a large town with- 
in possible reach of Questiford, and his heart 

14 


158 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


had SO burned for a glimpse at the spot famil- 
iar to his early manhood that he had resolved 
to devote a little time and trouble to the re- 
newal of those early associations. 

He singled out Laurie as bearing the closest 
resemblance to his father, and would have him 
sit beside him at table, distinguishing him from 
the rest by the affectionate title My son.” 

After the first formality had worn away — 
and that could not take long with the genial 
professor — the boys found themselves drawn 
into giving him an account of their life past 
and present, their work, their pleasures, their 
likes and dislikes, their wishes and purposes. 
This came about, too, without direct question 
and answer. This lonely, middle-aged pro- 
fessor was a wise " man in his way ; he knew 
how to draw out the hearts of young people 
as well as to put knowledge into their heads. 
The gray eyes that seemed hidden too far un- 
der the heavy, ungainly brows to observe what 
was going on about him proved themselves 
capable of taking note of the most minute 
details. The evening after his arrival, as they 
all sat out on the broad piazza, as was the 
family custom in summer, the professor amused 
them by telling each his fortune, or rather his 


PROFESSOR COLEMAN. 


159 


character. Mrs. Schenck, not giving her guest 
credit for as much insight into human nature 
as he possessed, told him to see how near he 
could hit the truth in drawing her portrait. 
His eyes twinkled as he slowly and with care- 
ful words brought out the truth too exactly to 
allow his criticism to be very complimentary. 
It was well the evening shadows concealed the 
expression of the boys’ faces during this de- 
scription, for Aunt Schenck would have been 
doubly disturbed had she seen the endorse- 
ment of it all shining in four pairs of eyes. 

“ It’s all a piece of foolish guess-work, An- 
thony Coleman,” she said ; so of course I 
don’t take any offence, although I do say it 
is hardly the thing to let your imagination 
loose in the ears of these children.” 

Please tell us what sort of fellow Pierre 
is,” called out Pex, who, seated on a step at 
his new friend’s feet, with Victor beside him, 
was greatly pleased with the fortune-telling. 
Pierre stood leaning • against a pillar sharpen- 
ing a pencil by the light of the moon. 

Yes, sir,” said he, it may be a help toward 
improvement to hear the impression I have 
made upon a stranger.” 

Pierre Willoughby,” said the professor 


160 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


thoughtfully, is a boy who thinks the world 
is principally an immense laboratory wherein 
all manner of chemical combinations are go- 
ing on, and that the highest earthly ambition 
of mortal man is to study out the hidden 
secrets of Nature’s mixtures. He accepts his 
daily duty as a necessary drudgery, but spends 
every leisure thought upon the means of fur- 
thering his knowledge of science. He is guilty 
of a concealed murmur at Providence for with- 
holding from him the opportunities he longs 
for, but he resolutely keeps his desires shut 
up in his own breast, so that by no hint may 
he disturb the happiness of his family. He 
has temptations to selfishness — that is, to pre- 
occupation, which is a form of selfishness — 
but he fights against these, and follows up in 
his daily living the ideal he has set before him- 
self of the mingled fatherhood and brother- 
hood that befits the oldest boy in a family of 
orphan children.” 

When the professor paused there was a mo- 
ment of silence, for all felt how true and well 
deserved had been the commendation given to 
Pierre. Victor’s was the voice to break the 
spell, barking with all his might — not, it must 
be owned, through sympathy with the speak- 




PROFESSOR COLEMAN. 


161 . 




er’s words, but because urged thereto by cer- 
tain liberties that Eex was taking with his 
tail — a freedom which in his moments of med- 
itation Victor found it hard to tolerate even 
from the hands of his beloved master. 

It’s true, every word of it !” exclaimed 
Laurie, with warm approval in his voice. 

Our Pierre is the best kind of a brother ; 
it won’t hurt him if he does hear himself 
praised,” he continued in answer to a warn- 
ing tap on the shoulder from John. This 
precaution, however, proved wholly unneces- 
sary, for Pierre, as soon as he caught the pro- 
fessor’s last word, had swung himself down 
upon the garden-path from the pillar of the 
piazza against which he had leaned, and so 
passed out of sight. 

^^Tell us, please,” said Rex, ^^what you 
think of Cousin John.” 

The professor looked gravely into the face 
of John Schenck, and presently said : With 
proper training he will make a very good sort 
of man. At present he seems more fit to be a 
dapper clerk in a dry-goods store than aught 
else ; but he has possibilities' for a nobler 
position, if only he will choose a work and 
stick to it. He is one of the sort who often 
14 * L 


. 162 THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 

make shipwreck of life for want of the adhe- 
sive property. Now, it don’t make so very 
much matter what a man sets himself to do in 
this world, so long as he chooses a useful and 
honest branch of industry. The great need 
is thoroughness and perseverance. One man 
may chop wood, and another judge between 
the innocent and the guilty in a court of law ; 
if the former does his work honestly, and the 
latter does not, in God’s sight the woodchop- 
per is the nobler man.” 

“ My son has more talent than you give 
him credit for, Anthony Coleman,” said Mrs. 
Schenck, with some indignation in her tone. 
^^His father was a smart man, and made 
nioney. He gave John much greater advan- 
tages than poor Henry has provided for his 
boys, and I expect him to turn out some- 
thing worth while.” 

Nobody responded, and Mrs. Schenck went 
„on; have made arrangements for John to 
enter into business with a first-rate firm in 
New York. He is to go on the fifteenth of 
next month. I expect* him to work his way 
up, and make a fortune while others of his 
age are spending their time dreaming of what 
they would like to do.” 


PROFESSOR COLEMAN. 


163 


^^You are a sensible woman, Eliza,” said 
Professor Coleman, and I see but one thing 
in the way of John’s fulfilling .your expec- 
tations.” 

know, I know,” interposed the mother, 
as if averse to the mention by another than 
herself of her son’s great fault. John is as 
fickle-minded as a weathercock ; he gets tired 
of everything he undertakes before it is half 
done. But he’ll get over that; he’s only a 
boy yet, Anthony.” 

The game of fortune-telling was fast turn- 
ing from an amusement to a serious occupa- 
tion, and this suited neither the professor nor 
the boys; so he gayly turned the current of 
thought by proposing a stroll through the 
garden to get cooled off and to find Pierre. 
It was an acceptable suggestion, especially to 
Rex, who had for some moments been long- 
ing to be off in pursuit of the lightning-bugs 
which filled the air. Mrs. Sclienck remained 
seated on the piazza, being somewhat per- 
turbed in mind by her guest’s too clear in- 
sight into John’s failings; moreover, she had 
no mind to risk being bitten by the mos- 
quitos for the sake of a stroll through tlie 
garden. 


164 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


The next day each boy was eager to be the 
first to show the professor the way to the 
Look-out Eoom. Pierre was especially anx- 
ious, for he had been working all his odd 
moments for two days previous over an ex- 
periment that repeatedly failed — from what 
cause he could not understand. He was sure 
that this friend, learned in the science at whose 
outer door he was beginning to knock, could 
at once set things right for him. Bright and 
early he was up and listening for the open- 
ing of the professor’s door. All was silence 
in that direction. Pierre groaned as the mo- 
ments flew by and the breakfast-hour ap- 
proached, for he had always to hasten from 
the meal to his day’s work; then he knew 
well that at noon he would have to share his 
chances for their guest’s attention with every 
other member of the family. He stood at 
his own door meditating the propriety of 
making an inroad upon the professor under 
pretence of asking if he needed anything, 
when he spied Bex creeping up the stairs 
with a pitcher of hot water in hand. 

^^What are you about, Bex?” asked the 
elder brother. 

^^Our professor will want to shave, you 


PEOFESSOR COLEMAN. 165 

know/^ explained the other in a low tone, 

and I am going to get his boots and black 
them.” 

^^Yery well,” said Pierre in a tone that 
proved he did not think it ^^very well” that 
some one else should get ahead of him in see- 
ing their mutual friend. He was comforted a 
moment after by Rex’s return, boots in hand, 
but with a long face. 

^^Well?” queried Pierre, still standing in 
the doorway. 

He is sound asleep, and snoring away like 
a band of music. I didn’t dare wake him, for 
Aunt Schenck said I shouldn’t. I had the 
greatest mind, though, to drop the boots on 
the floor and start him, for I do want to take 
him up to the Look-out Room before school- 
time. He has made an immense collection 
of insects, and wants to see mine. That man 
is a regular brick, I tell you, Pierre Wil- 
loughby !” 

Pierre showed a sad lack of interest in the ' 
entomological tastes of the sleeping guest, and 
gave a sigh as he turned from Rex to make his 
way to the breakfast-room. 

It was, after all, John who had the pleasure 
of introducing Professor Coleman to the scene 


166 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


of the various industries of the Pantops family. 
Pierre had eaten his breakfast and gone reluc- 
tantly to the drug-store, and Laurie had enter- 
ed upon his day^s labor at the printing-office, 
before the laggard professor made his way 
down to the morning meal. Rex had been 
sent to the village on an errand for his aunt, 
and John was the only boy at hand to give a 
morning greeting to the much-valued guest. 
The table still stood, bright and neat with its 
regular breakfast-adornings, but Mrs. Schenck, 
grown impatient with waiting for the tardy 
gentleman, was bustling about with great en- 
ergy in the china-closet in order to waste no 
time. At sight of him she smoothed the 
wrinkles from her forehead and took her seat 
at the coffee-urn. John was there with a fresh 
bouquet to adorn the table, and with ready 
courtesy stationed himself behind the profes- 
sor’s chair, that he might anticipate each want. 

The latter inquired where the other boys 
were, and when told that they were already 
away at work peered at John from beneath 
his shaggy brows and said, ^‘Tut, tut, tut, 
lad ! this will never do. So you are the only 
drone in the hive ? Give an account of your- 
self.” 


PROFESSOR COLEMAN. 


167 


John bit his lip with an instant’s annoyance, 
for the assurance, started by the conversation 
of the previous evening, that he did not stand 
as high as his cousins in the professor’s good 
graces was revived by this reproof. 

Perhaps, sir, I have been making honey 
while you were finishing your morning nap.” 

Perhaps !” responded the guest with a queer 
little nod. “ Pass me the salt, boy.” 

Let me fill your cup, Anthony,” said the 
lady behind the cofFee-urn. “ I fear you will 
have but a wearisome day,” she remarked as 
she handed back the cup. “This is a dull 
old place, as you know. To be sure, you 
and brother Henry used to make things live- 
ly enough, but now he is gone, and you will 
hardly care to go out fishing or gunning by 
yourself.” 

“I have no fears, Eliza, on that score; I am 
used to being my own entertainer. Besides, I 
want to look around the place and revisit my / 
old haunts. Then I propose making some calls 
in the village; some of the elders there will be 
sure to remember Anthony Coleman.” 

“ No doubt of that,” said Mrs. Schenck. 

“ I am going to explore the old house too, 
with your permission. It will bring back 


168 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


many a merry hour spent within these walls. 
I am in a hurry to visit the Look-out Room, 
Eliza. It will do me good to meditate a while 
up there.” 

‘^Why, sir,” exclaimed John, starting for- 
ward, do you know the Look-out Room ? 
It’s the jolliest place! I should like to go 
with you when you have finished breakfast ; 
we boys have all kind of things going on 
up there.” 

“ I am ready,” said the professor, rising ; 
‘‘by all means be my conductor.” 

At this moment Rex appeared, red-faced 
and flurried, having barely time to explain 
to his , aunt the result of his errand, pick up 
his^ books, and rush off to school. 

“ Good-bye, professor,” he panted, short 'of 
breath with running. “I wanted to. sh‘>w 
you my insects, but tempus fugit . — Aunt 
Schenck,” exclaimed he as a bright thought 
flashed through his mind, “can’t I get ex- 
cused at recess ? I’ve got such a headache !” 

“Nonsense!” said Mrs. Schenck sharplj^; 
and Rex knew by the tone in which that word 
was ejaculated that further entreaty was use- 
less. He ran off without delay, pondering 
all the way to school how delightful it woulJ 


PROFESSOR COLEMAN. 


169 


be to have a stroll in the woods and a talk 
with his father’s old friend. His head did 
not ache so badly as he wished it did for the 
sake of having a thoroughly honest excuse ; 
still, he was sure an hour or two in the fresh 
air was exactly what his health required. The 
school-house was reached, but not in time for 
Kex to answer Present ” to his imme in the 
roll-call. He got quieted off in a few min- 
utes, and was thumping his breast vigorously 
to get a column of hard words duly arranged 
in his mind, forgetful of headache, professor, 
and everything else but the matter in hand. 
At ten years of age one has no leisure to waste 
in regrets. 

Meanwhile, John and Professor Coleman 
were seated in the Look-out Room, John 
eagerly explaining the divisions of territory, 
and the professor with moist eyes listening to 
the boy and at the same time gazing through 
Edna’s window — not at the village houses, 
but far beyond them at the scenes whose 
memory they revived of bygone pleasures 
and a long-lost friend. 

Auntie Blanche hobbled in to exchange a 
How-d’ye?” with Marse Anthony.” In her 
*eyes the learned college professor was still the 

15 


170 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


fun-loviug, frolicsome youth of former years, 
and she astonished John not a little by ad- 
dressing him with quite as much familiarity 
as she did the present generation of Pantops 
boys. 

So this bracket-saw is your specialty, Mas- 
ter John ?’’ said Professor Coleman as he began 
examining this last hobby of the fickle-minded 
young Westerner. 

John, with much animation, produced his 
rolls of patterns and his assortment of fancy 
woods, and while the guest was examining 
these he ran down stairs to collect the differ- 
ent articles he had made with the saw. The 
professor looked at all the pretty trifles with 
flattering attention, and, selecting two from the 
number, began to criticise. One of these was 
John’s most elaborate effort, a Swiss clock- 
case ; the other a simple paper-knife. John’s 
eyes sparkled ; he was sure to gain a few words 
of commendation from this gruff man who had 
pronounced him fit for a dry-goods clerk and 
as much as prophesied that he never would 
succeed in life for lack of perseverance. 

This,” said the professor, touching the 
clock-case, is a fanciful design, but the carv- 
ing is careless; the two sides are not alike; 


PROFESSOR COLEMAN. 


171 


this leaf — do you see? — is very narrow and 
pointed, and this, which should match it ex- 
actly, is nearly round. Here too is a rough 
edge which needs sand-papering. Now this,^^ 
and he picked up the paper-knife as he spoke, 
is a much simpler article, but it pleases me 
far better. You took pains here; every line 
is true, and it is neatly finished off. Go on 
doing such work as this, and in time you will 
excel.’’ 

Now, all this commendation of the paper- 
knife, by which Professor Coleman supposed 
he was encouraging his young friend, was 
really hurting John sadly. The paper-knife 
was one of several things which he had begun 
and had cast aside unfinished because the saw 
broke or he took a new fancy. It was the 
patient Laurie, who could never bear to see 
a thing thrown away which had in it a pos- 
sibility of beauty,, that had spent some “ odd 
moments” in completing his cousin’s discard- 
ed attempt. 

^^Yes,” continued the professor, noticing 
John’s gloomy silence, “this does you credit. 
It is the best finished article here.” 

“ The credit belongs to Laurence, and not 
to me, sir,” was. the honest response. “I 


172 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


can’t ever go on working at things when they 
bother me — I throw them aside and begin 
afresh ; but Laurie was born to be a cobbler ; 
he delights in patching up old things and 
making something out of nothing. I would- 
n’t be bothered with such jobs.” 

You pay your cousin a high compliment,” 
said the professor, looking pleased; and you 
deserve a compliment yourself, my boy, for 
your honesty in refusing to accept praise that 
is not your due. I like you all the better for 
this, John Schenck,” he continued, putting his 
hand on the boy’s shoulder. Truth and per- 
severance are two essential things, but if you 
are only to have one, you are gifted with the 
best of the two virtues.” 

John heard in silence, and commenced 
gathering up his specimens of wood-carving, 
while the professor turned to Laurie’s table 
and began turning over the sketches in his 
portfolio ; but in his heart John was resolv- 
ing to have a hand-to-hand fight with his 
well-known failing, and to prove some day 
to this character-reading man that he was 
capable of sticking to” an undertaking as 
well as anybody. 


CHAPTEK XIII. 

A GARDEN TALK. 

A t noon Rex bounced into the quiet house 
like the noisy human ball he was, leav- 
ing every door open behind him as he went 
whistling through the hall in search of his new 
friend. Mrs. Schenck met him with indigna- 
tion on the stairs, and sent him back to shut 
the doors. Rex could not stop whistling, but 
his aunPs aspect changed the tune from Yan- 
kee Doodle’^ to Martyrs.’^ He wondered 
why his aunt always had the doors and win- 
dows closed. What if the flies did come in ? 
Flies were not half so bad as a gloomy house. 
Aunt Schenck’s rule was a continual negative 
— no flies, no sunshine, no noise, no dirt — 
and Rex believed she would have added to 
the list of prohibitions ^^No boys,^^ had it 
been possible. 

Having closed every door, the boy bounced 
up stairs again. Where is Professor Cole- 
man?” he asked. 

15 * 


173 


174 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


Don’t know,” was the curt reply. 

I seen him down by the stream a few min- 
utes ago,” said one of the maids, who under 
Mrs. Schenck’s direction was sweeping down 
imaginary cobwebs. 

What was he doing ?” asked Rex. 

Shovelling up mud and putting it in a 
bottle. — I do declare he was, ma’am,” said the 
girl with a giggle. Out of deference for her 
mistress she refrained from announcing the 
decision that she and the cook had come to, 
that the poor gentleman was out of his mind 
and needed watching. 

Good !” shouted Rex, and was off like a 
flash to the garden, this time leaving a new 
set of doors wide open for the flies and sun- 
shine to enter as they would. 

The professor was discovered lounging on 
one of the garden-seats reading a paper, but 
took an upright position as Rex approached. 

I’ve found you at last !” cried the heated 
boy. Please tell me, professor, what you are 
going to do with the mud : Jane says you were 
shovelling it up and putting it in a bottle.” 

‘^She did, did she? Jane and I will have 
a quarrel, I’m afraid, before I go. -Yesterday 
I succeeded in capturing a beautiful moth. I 


A GARDEN TALK. 


175 


put it under a tumbler in my room, meaning 
to take it home to dissect it for the microscope ; 
but Jane, who has evidently no turn for sci- 
ence, has let go the prisoner and put the tum- 
bler back in its place. I must take care of 
my precious mud, or sho will be washing out 
the bottle. There is such a thing as being 
too neat — eh, my boy?” 

That there is, sir !” replied Rex with such 
unwonted emphasis that the professor looked 
in his face curiously. Rex was of course 
thinking less of Jane than of Jane’s mistress, 
but he was too respectful to his aunt to give 
his unruly thoughts expression. 

What are you going to do with the mud, 
sir?” he inquired. 

The professor drew from his pocket a small 
phial filled with muddy water, and handed it 
to his companion. ‘^That looks rich,” said 
he. 

Rex was perplexed. 

^^Ah, I see you have not yet learned to use 
that key to a world’s museum of wonders, the 
microscope.” 

No, sir,” said Rex. I have never seen 
but one : that was once when I was away on a 
visit. I only know about things that are big 


176 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


. enough to be seen with the eye, and very few 
of those.^^ 

^^Well! well! all will come in good time. 
You can find enough to occupy you in the 
larger forms of insect-life for a good while to 
come. Maybe one of these days old Santa 
Claus will put a microscope in your stocking. 
I must tell you about this mud ; it is full of 
diatoms.” 

^‘And what are they?” asked the boy, who 
could see nothing very interesting in a phial 
of dirty water. 

Diatoms are very tiny shells formed of 
silex, with a little coloring-matter to them; 
sometimes they are called ^ brittleworts,’ be- 
cause they break apart from each other so 
readily. The name diatom means ^something 
cut through the middle.^ These little shells 
are really two valves united at the edge.” 

But, sir,” said Rex, who had taken a seat 
beside his friend and was trying his best to 
feel interested, I see nothing at all but*dirt 
in the bottle : where are the diatoms ?” 

In the midst of the dirt, my boy. The 
trouble is with your eyes, bright as they are. 
I have something in my pocket that will help 
them to discover the treasures.” 


A GARDEN TALK. 


177 


So saying, the professor produced what was 
a most wonderful instrument in Rex’s eyes, a 
pocket microscope. 

‘^Now look,” said he, ‘^and tell me what 
you discover in the dirty water.” 

There are some whitish specks,” said Rex, 
peering through the glass with all his might. 

, Those specks are the diatoms. If T had a 
large microscope at hand, you would see them 
magnified five hundred diameters. I doubt if, 
after spending a day in company with a good 
microscope, you would continue to be satisfied 
with the study of such objects as can be seen 
with the naked eye.” 

Then,” said Rex, it is just as well for me 
that I can’t see the microscope. I should be- 
gin wanting what I could not possibly have. 
Aunt Schenck would tell you, sir, that you 
ought not to put notions in my head.” 

Humph !” was the reply. 

Do you always carry this glass about with 
you, professor?” 

. “Yes; that has been thousands of miles in 
my pocket, and it has revealed unlimited mar- 
vels to me. Think of it, boy ! Every step you 
take brings you within reach of objects which 
would afford you material for years of study ; 

M 


178 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


yes, every step,” repeated the professor, noti- 
cing his companion's incredulous look. Have 
you not geology under foot, botany at arm’s 
length, astronomy over head, entomology — a 
little too much of that” — the speaker was try- 
ing in vain to kill a mosquito ; meteorology 
too, and I know not how many things besides? 
Ah, you might become a learned man without 
stirring from this garden — ” 

If I had a library of books treating of all 
the sciences you have named, sir.” 

Books ? bah ! Have you not the things 
themselves? The very best books on these 
subjects are but the results of somebody else’s 
use of his eyes and ears. Use your own eyes, 
my boy, and when they have done all they can 
for you, then get books.” 

This counsel was very strongly in accord- 
ance with Rex’s taste. For reading or study 
he had little inclination, but the ever-open 
volume of the great “out-doors” had for 
him an untiring charm. 
f “ May I look at your glass, sir ?” 

The professor handed it to the boy with a 
smile at some thought of his own. Rex looked 
in his face a full minute, expecting an explana- 
tion of it, but none was given. 


A GARDEN TAEK. 


179 


off!’’ said the professor; '^find some- 
thing worth looking at, and bring it to show 
me.” 

With these words he stretched himself at 
full length on the seat, flung his handkerchief 
over his face, and left Bex alone with the won- 
derful little instrument which had the power to 
reveal to him untold wonders. Where should 
he go? what object should he first select? He 
found himself standing by a large rosebush, one 
of Edna’s special pets^ There were no roses 
in bloom at this late season, but, what was 
more beautiful to the eyes of Bex in his pres- 
ent mood, there were a couple of cocoons fast- 
ened among the parched leaves, a spider was 
industriously spinning his web bet.ween this 
bush and its next neighbor, while at the same 
moment a large, bright-hued butterfly flutter- 
ed above his head. 

Bex gave a chuckle of delight: here was a 
miniature museum within easy reach. The 
threads of the cocoon would be worth exam- 
ining under the microscope; the spider’s legs 
would be a curious study ; and he longed, above 
all, to examine the down on the butterfly’s wings 
with something more powerful than his own 
eyesight. Directly both cocoon and spider 


180 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


were in the grasp of the aspiring naturalist; 
but the tantalizing butterfly, having lighted on 
the rosebush almost under the hand of its pur- 
suer, rested there motionless until Rex thought 
he had it fairly in his grasp, but on opening 
his hand he found it empty, and the wings 
he had coveted for scientific investigation were 
moving gayly in the sunshine at a height too 
great for easy acquisition. It was much too 
warm a day for further chase, and Rex con- 
cluded to remain content with the cocoon and 
spider for this time. He came back to the pro- 
fessor, whom he found still lying on the seat, 
snoring heavily. 

What a lazy man murmured Rex under 
his breath. If I were a college professor, 
and knew as much as he does, I guess I would 
find better use for my time than sleeping it all 
away.’’ 

Rex was eager to have the professor look at 
his prizes with him and to hear him talk. The 
moments were slipping by, the golden odd 
moments of the noon recess, and — oh dear ! 
why did people have to eat? — there was the 
dinner-bell, and Pierre’s whistle from the 
back door told plainly that he was in a hurry. 
Rex gently lifted the handkerchief from the 


A GARDEN TALK. 


181 


face of the ‘ sleeper, and shouted in his ear, 
Dinner!’^ upon which the unconscious mu- 
sician gave a great snort and started up. 

Dinner, eh ? — so soon ? I believe I must 
have forgotten myself a moment. Haven’t 
found any object yet for the microscope?” 

While he questioned the professor was 
stretching his limbs and smoothing as best 
he could the wrinkles from his linen coat. 
Rex handed back the microscope with disap- 
pointment expressed on every feature of his 
chubby face. 

“I hoped we would get time to see the 
threads of this cocoon and examine the legs 
of this spider with the glass,” said he. 

Well, after dinner let us do so.” 

‘^School,” ejaculated Rex. 

Laurie and Pierre now approached by the turn 
of the garden-path, each eager to have a word 
with their guest, and half provoked with the 
youngest brother for having monopolized him 
so long. They took possession of the still 
sleepy professor, one on each side, and hur- 
ried him to the house, leaving poor Rex in 
the rear; but the latter was greatly cheered 
by a backward look and nod and the words, 
walk after school.” 


16 


182 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


^Tisn’t fair/’ said Laurie. Rex has more 
time than any of us — that is, except John. — Pro- 
fessor, are you going to stay a real good long 
time at Pantops ?” 

I must be in New York by Friday even- 
ing,” was the reply that brought an exclama- 
tion of disapproval from all three hearers. 

Why must you ?” asked Laurie ; then he 
flushed and tossed back his hair at the thought 
of his rudeness in asking such a direct ques- 
tion. 

There is a meeting to be held by a society 
of chemists on that evening which I am very 
anxious to attend.” 

“And this is Wednesday!” said Pierre re- 
gretfully. 

“Here I am at your disposal, young gen- 
tlemen, for the remainder of this day and the 
whole of to-morrow: I need not start until 
Friday morning.” 

Mrs. Schenck received the tardy group with 
a severe countenance when at last they entered 
the dining-room. She looked hot and weary, 
yet with tireless energy was waging war with 
a refractory fly that somebody — probably Rex 
— had admitted into the carefully-darkened 
apartment. 


A GARDEN TALK. 


183 


Boys, I wonder you have no more polite- 
ness than to keep Professor Coleman from his 
dinner ? The vegetables are nearly cold.” 

So much the better, I should say,” replied 
Pierre, “ on such a day as this.” 

Anthony,” said the lady, you do wrong 
to encourage these boys in such familiarity. 
They leave you no peace. There is some ex- 
cuse for them in the fact that we seldom have 
visitors, and they have to make the most of 
one when he comes.” 

Thank you. Aunt Schenck,” said Bex, 
with such heartiness that the professor looked 
across the table at him with a laugh. 

The fact was, that Mrs. Schenck often found 
fault, and rarely excuses, so that any concession 
on her part was received with gratitude by her 
nephews. 

When dinner was over, and the young Wil- 
loughby s had returned reluctantly to their sev- 
eral duties at store, office, and school, the pro- 
fessor retired to his room to rest and cool off. 
This disposal of himself was well pleasing to 
Mrs. Schenck, for in her esteem a man was a 
creature who always made a litter around, 
who opened blinds that should be shut, let- 
ting in light and flies and dust, and who gen- 


184 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


erally carried a cloud of tobacco-smoke about 
with him to scent the curtains and blacken 
the walls. As to this last-named infirmity, 
Professor Coleman was blameless, but perhaps 
he made up for ^ his virtuous indifference to to- 
bacco by an unusual degree, even for a man, of 
carelessness in leaving things around. He left 
his newspapers scattered on the floors of the va- 
rious rooms; he dropped crumbs under his seat 
at table ; he spilled ink on the toilette-mats of 
the spare room; and left bugs and bottles lying 
at haphazard on its mantel and bureau. Nev- 
ertheless, for the sake of the bygone days when 
they two were young together, Mrs. Schenck 
looked leniently upon these shortcomings. 

When the professor started out, late in the 
afternoon, to meet Reginald on his way from 
school, he had in his pocket a note addressed 
to a certain business-firm containing an order 
the fulfilment of which was to bring joy to the 
heart of a little boy who at that very moment 
was groaning at his desk over a “horrid sum’^ 
that would not come right. 


CHAPTEK XIV. 

LET OUT ON SHARES. 

N Thursday, the last day of Professor 



Coleman’s visit at Pantops, not an hour’s 
leisure was given him for a nap in the garden 
or quiet reading in his room. The boys agreed 
to form a joint-stock company and each accept 
his share of the day. 

Laurie’s portion came first. He was a shyer 
boy than either of. his brothers, and so, while 
feeling a desire for the society of his father’s 
friend quite as strongly as the others, he had 
kept out of his presence, and in no way had 
called the professor’s attention to himself. For 
, all that, the quiet little artist had won a warm 
place in the regard of the Pantops guest, and 
when the plan was merrily announced that he 
was to be divided equally among four boys 
for that one day, he put hig hand on Laurie’s 
shoulder and declared that his share should 
come first — that he would get up at sunrise 

16 * 185 


186 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


and go with him over the hills and far away 
to see the pretty views of Qiiestiford. This 
was a plan after Laurie’s own heart, and, 
though he only answered, Yes, sir,” the two 
monosyllables expressed a deal of satisfaction. 

According to arrangement, then, Laurie 
tapped at the professor’s door when the first 
bright streaks of dawn were visible. The 
gentle knocks were not nearly so loud as the 
snores of the sleeper, so Laurie summoned his 
courage, opened the door, and called, Please 
get up, sir.” His mild tones were utterly in- 
effectual in presence of such complete uncon- 
sciousness, and had not a friendly mosquito 
settled on the gentleman’s nose at the instant 
when he gave his loudest summons, it is prob- 
able that the present stockholder would have 
lost his share. As it was, the professor was 
in his clothes and out of the house in a re- 
markably short time, and a long walk was 
taken, which to Laurie was so important an 
event as to be afterward duly set down by 
him in the old Family Record. 

The boy led the way to the rustic bridge, 
and along the road by the water’s edge to 
the spot whence he had sketched what he con- 
sidered his finest picture. It was at all times 


LET OUT ON SHARES. 


187 


a charming walk, and now, with the freshness 
of the morning air on their brows, the first 
notes of the birds in their ears, and a land- 
scape spread before their eyes which, aside 
from its beauty, was bound by dear associa- 
tions to the heart of each, these two, the man 
and the boy,, felt a joy akin to that which 
Adam might have experienced when he first 
beheld his Paradise. They rested on the 
knoll where the unfortunate paints had fallen 
and been soaked by the rain, and all at once 
the reserved Laurence began giving his com- 
panion a history of that affair, and from one 
thing went on to another until the man who 
a week ago had been unknown to him even 
by name held possession of the key to his 
heart. 

^^You do not want to be a printer, eh?’^ 
Laurie shook his head and made a wry face. 
‘^What, then?” 

Laurie opened his eyes wide at the question. 
Was there any one thing in the world that he 
could want to be but an artist? His friend 
should know this without making him put 
the longing of his soul in so many words. 

‘^Perhaps Providence will one day open 
the way for you, my son.” 


188 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. ’ 


can’t see how/’ was the gloomy re- 
sponse. “ I must work for my living straight 
on through the very years that I ought to be 
studying art. There are no opportunities, 
either, in Questiford, and there is no chance 
of my getting away from here as long as I 
live.” 

“That is very sad,” replied the professor, 
but something in his tone made Laurie look 
in his face, and there he saw a smile. 

“ I see no possibility of your realizing your 
hopes in that case. We don’t often see our 
chances until they are right in our way, and 
only God knows what good thing awaits you 
in that \ as long as I live.’ ” 

“What must I do, then? Just plod along 
at the office and grow up an ignoramus, wait- 
ing for that possible ‘ good thing ’ ?” Lau- 
rence hung his head and asked the questions 
in a hard, hopeless way that troubled his good 
friend. 

“ Just so,” he answered — “ plod along at the 
office, but all the while be aiming at the best 
that is possible to you. Draw, paint, study, 
seize every help that friends or books can give, 
and so be ready to make the most of the ^ good 
thing.’ ” 


LET OUT ON SHARES. 


189 


The two walked along soberly after this, 
each thinking his own thoughts. Laurie be- 
gan to fear that, after all, his share in the 
family stock for the day was not going to 
bring him in much profit, when suddenly his 
companion broke the long silence : 

Would you care to take a trip to Eu- 
rope 

Care — to — take — a — trip — to — Europe 
the boy repeated, emphasizing each word, as 
a miser might if asked if he would care to re- 
ceive a ship laden with gold. 

I douT mean that I can take you there,^^ 
the professor hurriedly interposed, fearing that 
his words might lead to false hopes. “ If I 
were only a millionaire instead of a poor teach- 
er , — if I were, it should make a difference in 
the lives of three boys that I know.’’ 

Laurie laughed, and the change in his face 
was as if the sun had suddenly appeared from 
behind a cloud. He took his companion’s 
hand between both of his and gave disjointed 
expression to his thanks for the good-will that 
he felt to be sincere and earnest. 

They reached home in season for breakfast, 
since the cook had overslept herself and it was 
fifteen minutes later than usual. 


190 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


As they ran up stairs to brush off the dust 
before appearing in the dining-room, the pro- 
fessor abruptly inquired, “ What sort of pen- 
man are you 

“ Fair, I believe, sir ; there is a specimen 
Laurie drew a small blank-book from his 
pocket which he kept for copying passages 
from books that he read, and handed it to 
the professor. 

The writing was much more than fair, as 
his friend saw at one glance. The letters 
were neat and well formed, as befitted an 
artist-boy. 

How old are you ?” was the next question. 

Thirteen my last birthday, sir.” 

They had reached the stair-landing, and 
there parted, without any further words, to 
their different rooms. 

I guess he thinks I don’t know much for 
my age,” murmured Laurie to his reflection 
in the glass as he stood fiercely brushing back 
the wilful lock of hair from his forehead. 

The professor, already on his way down to 
breakfast, was saying to himself, “The very 
thing ! Must note that down, and see to it 
as soon as I get home.” 

There was an eager group ready to greet 


LET OUT ON SUARES. 


191 


tlie family friend as he entered the dining- 
room. Evidently, they had been talking 
about him, probably settling the turns ” by 
which each should take possession of him. 

^^It is just as well for you, Anthony, that 
you must be off to-morrow,^^ said the lady at 
the head of the table. wonder you can 
stand it as you do, particularly when the 
weather is so oppressive.” 

Stand what. Aunt Schenck?” inquired 
the senior member of the stock company; 

Why to be followed up every step he 
takes, and talked to, and bored as none but 
half-grown persons can bore one. I am glad 
you boys are not so fond of me as all that.” 

Mrs. Schenck was at a loss to know the 
reason of the smile that passed around the 
table as she concluded her remark. 

By general consent, John took his share 
in the professor’s time during the hours when 
the others were absent at their various occu- 
pations. When all had started off, and when 
Mrs. Schenck had been allowed a little chat 
with her old friend during her methodical 
washing up of the breakfast-cups, John gen- 
tly tapped him on the shoulder as a reminder 
that he was under authority for that day. 


192 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


At your service/^ was the ready response ; 
^^what do you propose doing with me?’^ 

The Look-out Room is the regular place 
for a talk/^ said the boy; suppose we go 
there, sir?^^ 

^^John, how can you?’’ interposed his 
mother. ^^It will be as hot as an oven up 
there. I can’t abide that room.” 

That’s because you are not allowed there, 
mother,” said John saucily. ‘‘It can’t be 
very hot when there is a window at each point 
of the compass, and we can have the benefit of 
every wind that blows.” 

Mrs. Schenck made some reply, but it was 
unheard by John, who was already up stairs 
and passing through the winding passage that 
led to the Look-out Room, with the professor 
close behind. 

A disagreeable odor met them at the foot of 
the stairway that led directly to the museum. 

“ Bah !” exclaimed John ; “ what can this 
be? I’m sure mother has not been in this 
part of the house to-day, for she can’t endure 
bad smells.” 

“ Perhaps a dead mouse in the wall,” sug- 
gested the professor, who was holding his 
handkerchief to his nose. 


LET OUT ON SHARES. 


193 


More likely it is some of Rex’s work, sir. 
That fellow is always bringing in creatures, 
alive or dead. I shouldn’t wonder if he has 
caught something and is keeping it to stuff. 
Phew!” 

John threw open the door into the Look- 
out Room, and there on Rex’s table lay the 
evident cause of the disturbing odor — a pretty 
little bird partially prepared for stuffing, and 
with a bottle of arsenic standing beside it, 
which, unfortunately, had not been applied 
in season. 

Ah ! here is a • disappointment for poor 
Reginald I” said the professor. “ It was my 
fault, and I will make all proper excuses to 
Eliza for it. I wanted to see the process of 
stuffing — taxidermy I believe it is called — 
and it was especially to please me that he 
caught the bird and began the work.” 

‘^Why didn’t he finish it?” asked John. 
There was a tone of something like exultation 
in his voice as he added, It seems that John 
is not the only fellow who begins things and 
leaves them half done.” 

^^I remember now. Rex was summoned 
down stairs to run to the store when he was 
in the midst of this work yesterday morning, 
17 N 


194 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


and his day was so full of other interests that 
probably he never thought of it again : I 
did not.” 

^‘But he’ll get a scolding, all the same,” 
said John. Mother has forbidden all such 
work during hot weather.” 

“ I will find her at once and apologize for 
both Bex and myself; and do you, John, call 
up the maid to remove the cause of all the 
trouble.” 

Being fairly driven out of the favorite re- 
sort, the two companions finally established 
themselves on the piazza, where the running 
roses and honeysuckles made a fragrant shade 
from the sun’s rays and a slight breeze was 
stirring. 

Pantops is a goodly place ; there are not 
many youngsters blessed with such a home.” 

The professor made this remark more to 
himself than the boy beside him, for he was 
thinking of his own youth and its associations 
with the home of his friend Henry Willough- 
by. It was, however, answered by a sigh, and 
John replied that he loved the place dearly, 
and could not bear the thought of leaving it 
so soon. 

^^You will have vacations from time to 


LET OUT ON SHARES. 


195 


time no doubt, and then you can come on to 
see your mother and cousins. New York is 
not very far away.” 

No, sir, but I shall — That is, I mean to 
work very hard to get a home for mother and 
myself there. It is only right that 1 should.” 

Spoken like a man !” exclaimed the pro- 
fessor. It is right that you should look for- 
ward to providing for your mother, but that 
will require steady, plodding labor, with no get- 
ting tired and giving up when difficulties arise.” 

‘‘I know that — indeed I know it — and I 
am going to try my very best to persevere.” 

John made a sudden dart into the house, 
chiefly to subdue a chokiness that was rising 
in his throat, though avowedly to bring down 
his latest piece of work on the scroll-saw. It 
seemed to take him a good while to find it, 
but when he did return it was with a bright 
face and cheery voice. He plsfced in the pro- 
fessor’s hand a dainty little match-box cut in 
a delicate pattern and inlaid with wood of 
contrasting color. . 

“I want to know if that will stand your 
criticism, sir ? I have taken more pains over 
it than anything I have cut out before.” 

“You did this all yourself?” 


196 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


Every bit, sir.’^ 

Laurie did not finish it off?” 

John’s face flushed, but he answered, “ No, 
sir ; Laurie has not even seen it.” 

^^It does you great credit; I never saw a 
neater specimen of workmanship. After all, 
there is more good material in you, John 
Schenck, than I gave you credit for at first.” 

This did not sound like much of a compli- 
ment, but it pleased John greatly. The pro- 
fessor’s lack of confidence in him had disturbed 
him so completely that he had made an indig- 
nant resolve to win a good word from him 
somehow before he went away. The pro- 
fessor handed him back the pretty trifle. 

Please take it home with you to keep your 
matches in : I made it specially for you, sir ; 
that is, I waited to see whether you thought it 
good enough.” 

Quite good enough, and I appreciate your 
gift ; but how do you suppose 1 am to carry 
that fragile thing on a long journey? I have 
only a bag with me, you know.” 

I’ll get mother to pack it nicely in a little 
box that can easily go in your bag and John 
moved away to carry out his proposal, but the 
gentleman detained him : 


LET OUT ON SHARES. 


197 


If you will get the box and pack it your- 
self, I will take it, but if you get your mother 
to do it, I will not.’^ 

• Why ?” askfed John in surprise. 

Because a boy who is about to go out in 
the world to begin life for himself ought to be 
more independent than that. You are now to 
do things for your mother, instead of depend- 
ing on her to do them for you.” 

“He is a little too hard on a fellow,” said 
John to himself ; nevertheless, he started off 
at once in search of box, cotton, and string. 
When the professor returned to his room he 
found a neat, compact little package placed on 
his table beside other things that were to be 
put in his bag, and laughed to himself with 
pleasure at the thought of John’s victory over 
his fault. 

The noon meal brought all the boys to- 
gether, and a merry set they were. Bex was 
especially gleeful, since he had earned a half- 
holiday from school by doing double duty in 
the morning, and now was looking forward to. 
unquestioned possession of the professor until 
Pierre should return from the store at supper- 
time. Even his aunt’s grim looks could not 
dispel the sunshine of his anticipations. 

17 * 


198 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


I have a word to say to you, Reginald,” 
remarked the latter in a very ominous tone as 
they rose from the table. 

The boy^s face assumed a frightened expres- 
sion at once, as his mind darted backward to 
discover what possible omission or commission 
was to be brought up against him. 

bottle of cologne or a scent-bag would 
be an appropriate present for you to give 
mother,” interposed John. ^^Get Pierre to 
bring you a good strong one from the store.” 

Your jokes are ill-timed, John,” said his 
mother coldly. — Reginald, come with me to 
my room a few moments.” 

Rex followed his aunt out of the dining- 
room and up stairs with a very crestfallen 
look, and did not appear again until the other 
boys had left the house to resume work for the 
afternoon. The professor, surmising that Rex 
was enduring punishment of some sort, felt 
very sorry, inasmuch as he had really been 
the cause of his disobedience to the strict rule 
of the establishment — namely, No taxidermy 
in warm weather.” All he could do, however, 
was to wait down stairs for the culprit’s release. 
Rex’s face was a good deal longer when at last 
he rejoined his friend. 


LET OUT ON SHARES. 


199 


“ What are you going to do with me, Rex, 
seeing that I am your property now?” 

Suppose we take a walk and find things 
to examine with your microscope ?” said Rex, 
instantly brightening. 

It seems to me quite too warm for that, but 
then it is for you to decide.” 

The professor wiped the beads of perspira- 
tion from his brow and looked at Rex dep- 
recatingly. 

beg pardon, sir; I didn’t think,” said 
the boy, who, being a boy, never concerned 
himself with the state of the thermometer 
when any pleasure was under consideration. 
Then,” he added after a moment’s reflection, 
would you mind coming to the Look-out 
Room ? I have not had a chance to show you 
my insects and birds and aquarium.” Rex 
had an honest pride in his museum. 

You are an industrious little fellow,” was 
the professor’s hearty comment when he had 
duly admired owl and butterflies, guinea-pig 
and birds. am truly astonished at the 
amount you boys accomplish in the intervals 
of real work.” 

It is because we make use of all our odd 
moments ; we are real economical about them.” 


200 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


‘‘So I should think. And who taught you 
to use so wisely what most young people 
throw away as having no value?” 

“ Edna did : Edna is just the best sister that 
ever was. I am sorry she is not here to see 
you. Pantops is a good deal pleasanter for 
us all when she is at home.” 

“No doubt of it;” and the rueful expres- 
sion on the boy’s face brought a sympathizing 
one to that of his companion. “ I saw your 
sister, Rex, when she was a little child. I 
judge that she has grown to be very much 
such a woman as her mother was before her.” 

From this ensued a conversation of deep 
interest to the old friend of Henry and Helen 
Willoughby and to their little son. It might 
have lasted all the afternoon but for an inter- 
ruption. Victor had no notion of allowing 
his master to be in the house a longer time 
than usual without sharing his attention, and 
the thoughts of both the professor and Rex 
were brought instantly from the bygones to 
present time by Victor’s voice at the door, 
now in whines of pitiful entreaty, now in 
sharp, shrill snaps of reproach, while he kept 
up a brisk accompaniment of scratches aud 
frequent thumps of his tail on the floor. 











LET OUT ON SHARES. 


201 


Poor fellow ! poor fellow ! Quiet, out 
there !’’ called his master, unwilling to inter- 
rupt the narration of a certain hunting-expe- 
dition when young Anthony Coleman and his 
friend Henry Willoughby had got lost in the 
woods and had nearly starved to death ; but 
Victor regarded not the interest of the story 
in his eagerness to be admitted. Rex rose 
finally, a little vexed at the dog’s perseve- 
rance, and opened the door. Victor dashed in, 
bounded on his master, and licked his hands 
with such extravagance of delight that one 
might suppose the separation had been one 
of months instead of little more than an 
hour. 

“How d’ye do, Rex? Beg pardon, but 
couldn’t hold out no longer ’thout seeing 
you.” 

Rex and the professor both looked in sur- 
prise at the open door. Victor had been ask- 
ing admission for Reed Remsen as well as 
himself. Rex instantly attended to the pro- 
prieties by introducing his two friends, with 
an inward chuckle at the fun of the thing, 
mingled with a vague doubt as to whether 
one of the twain might not resent it as an 
insult. Reed made the best bow he could 


202 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


manage in the direction of the strange gen- 
tleman, but kept his stand in the doorway, 
nervously working the toes of his bare feet. 
Rex gave a glance of inquiry at the professor, 
and was altogether reassured by the twinkle 
visible under the shaggy brows. 

^‘Come in, Reed. Where have you kept 
yourself all the time lately?’^ 

“ IVe been wantin’ to come, bad ; I’ve 
watched you every day when school was out, 
but you come home these times like a streak 
o’ lightnin’. Thinks I, ^ Reed Remsen, better 
stay away and feel lonesome than go where 
you ain’t wanted.’ ” 

These remarks, being made in a hoarse 
whisper to Rex, who had withdrawn with 
Victor and Reed to the other end of the room, 
were supposed to be unheard by the professor, 
who had turned his back on the party and 
was watching the fishes in the aquarium. 
Presently the two oddly-matched associates 
came to where he stood, and Reed looked 
into the jar with lively interest. 

All thrivin’ and kickin’, eh ?” said he ; 
but what has ’come of all your tadpoles ?” 

They outgrew their quarters pretty quick,” 
Rex replied, and I had to take them out.” 


LET OUT ON SHARES. 


203 


Queer now, ain’t it ?” and Reed glanced 
seriously in the professor’s face, evidently ex- 
pecting him to be as much amused at the 
transition of tadpoles into frogs as he was 
himself. 

Rex has quite a successful aquarium,” 
said the gentleman. I presume, as you are 
a friend of his, you have seen it before.” 

Reed giggled. Why, sir,” said he, “ I 
helped Rex make that ’quarium ; didn’t I 
now, Rex? I catched the critters for him, 
mostly. Couldn’t have got it fixed up if’t 
hadn’t been for me; could you now, Rex?” 

Thus appealed to, Rex shook his head. It 
was Reed Remsen’s special pride that he was 
an able assistant to the Willoughby boys, and 
that no one of them could get along in his 
special department without his aid. 

Professor Coleman gave Rex some useful 
suggestions as to the management of aquaria, 
to which Reed listened with open-eyed won- 
der. He described to them the great aqua- 
rium at the London Zoological Gardens, and 
held them spellbound as he discoursed on the 
nature and habits of various monsters of the 
deep. 

‘^Professor, I believe you do know every- 


204 THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 

thing cried Rex. How did you learn so 
much 

The professor’s face held a mingled expres- 
sion of amusement at the lad’s enthusiastic 
admiration and regret that really, according 
to his mature judgment of himself, he had ac- 
complished so little in all the years of his life. 
A moment’s whispering took place between 
the boys, and then Rex asked his friend, as a 
great favor, to allow Reed to see his pocket- 
glass. 

Of course I will, with pleasure,” said he. 

^^And if we take umbrellas and fans, and 
put grape-leaves in your hat, and walk very 
slowly — ” 

Yes, yes, you rogue ! My glass and my- 
self are at your disposal ; make the most of 
us both, for you may not soon have another 
chance. I wonder if Questiford would be 
greatly shocked if I were to go in my shirt- 
sleeves ?” 

• ^^No, sir; everybody does that in Questi- 
ford ; and we need not go through the village 
at all.” 

A few moments later Mrs. Schenck, look- 
ing from her window, saw the. party, with 
Victor at their heels, leisurely moving up the 


LET OUT ON SHARES. 


205 


road, and wondered for the hundred time 
how Anthony Coleman could allow himself 
to be so pestered with those boys. On the 
return from this walk Rex was almost beside 
himse'lf with delight. He had seen and heard 
enough to keep him thinking for a year, he 
said. Reed^s homely face was beaming with 
the possession of new ideas, and he mused 
with regret on his way home on his bashful- 
ness and dread of strangers that had deprived 
him of so much probable enjoyment. He had 
indeed skulked around Pantops whenever he 
had dared, for without daily communication 
with its inmates life was objectless to him; 
but he had lost the feeling of freedom ever 
since the change in housekeepers; he had 
never got much acquainted with John, and 
especially since the advent of a real live col- 
lege professor had he felt awed into keeping 
himself at a respectful distance, until, as he 
had told Rex, he ^^couldift hol(i out no 
longer.” 

Pierre could hardly wait for the evening 
meal to be finished, so eager was he to get the 
professor up into the laboratory with him, but 
patience was a necessity. As eldest brother 
he sat at the foot of the table and waited on 
18 


206 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


the family, and Aunt Schenck frowned on any 
appearance of haste. Besides, the professor 
and Rex had come in hungry from their walk, 
and had so much to talk about too that it 
seemed as if they never would be ready to rise 
from the table. Patience brought its reward 
at last, however, and while the rest of the 
family resorted to the piazza, Pierre captured 
the professor and led him up to the Look-out 
Room. 

Never was such a room as this,” remarked 
that gentleman, who was getting a little tired 
of being invited up the stairs to its retirement 
so many times in the interests of as many de- 
partments of science and art as there were boys 
in the household. He resigned himself with a 
good grace to the present demand, all the more 
easily as chemistry was his special pursuit. 
Hours passed away, and it grew late, according 
to Pan to ideas, for the family to be up, even 
on a summer night, and still Pierre and the 
j^rofessor lingered in the laboratory. Finally, 
Mrs. Schenck resolved to interfere in her 
guest’s behalf, and after she had vainly 
knocked several times at the door she opened 
it and peremptorily bade Pierre put away his 
things and let the professor go to bed. 


CHAPTER XV. 

GOINGS AND COMINGS. 

HE next morning Professor Coleman left 



_X- Pantops. His visit had been an event 
of great importance in the quiet lives of the 
young Willoughbys. Seldom in their retired 
home-nook had they met with persons of even 
ordinary cultivation, and the presence of a su- 
perior man like this — one, too, who not only 
knew everything, as Rex was positive he did, 
but took pleasure in sharing with them his 
knowledge — was something to be enjoyed in 
remembrance almost as much as at the time. 
Four pages of the Family Record were filled 
with accounts by four different scribes of this 
visit. It was hard for several days for the 
boys to settle themselves contentedly to regular 
occupations ; the printing-office, the drug-store, 
the school, and even the varied interests for which 
John had abundant leisure, became all at once 
wearily monotonous. Yet the practical sugges- 


207 


208 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


tions given to each boy by their wise friend 
sprang up like good seed sown in fertile soil, 
and who should say how rich a harvest might 
be reaped in years to come ? Certainly, Rex 
devoted himself to his study of natural his- 
tory, Laurie to his pictures, Pierre to his 
chemistry, with increased zeal after the pro- 
fessor’s visit. 

Edna’s long absence ended at last, and the 
day of her return was kept as a high holiday 
at Pantops. She had had a delightful visit, and 
had endless accounts to give of pretty places 
seen and agreeable people met ; but the very 
best of all,” said the motherly sister, was the 
getting back to the dear home and the blessed 
boys.” She had to listen to four different and 
equally enthusiastic descriptions of the recent 
visitor, and it seemed to her that every other 
sentence was a quotation from Professor Cole- 
man. She declared herself jealous of this won- 
derful stranger who had so bewitched the fam- 
ily as to leave them no opportunity for missing 
her. Edna could not have said this so cheer- 
ily had there been the faintest idea in her 
heart that such a thing was possible. 

The brackets, the source of so much trouble 
to John, were highly appreciated by grateful 


GOINGS AND COMINGS. 


209 


Edna, and she thanked both boys over and 
over again for their beautiful gift. Every 
word she said about them made John feel 
the more humbled at the remembrance of 
the foolish way in which he had acted about 
them. 

The pleasure of the family reunion was a 
good deal marred by the anticipation of John’s 
departure. In spite of first impressions, the 
attachment between the young Willoughbys 
and their so-called cousin had grown very 
strong. John’s best qualities hs^d been 
brought to the surface, his bad ones shamed 
into at least temporary retirement, under the 
influences of Pantops : he was far more man- 
ly than when he came from the West. 

Then came the days of packing and leave- 
taking, of parting gifts and promises of fre- 
quent letters, and of long talks together in the 
dear Look-out Room. Such air-castles as 
were built then surpass the conception of any- 
body past his teens. John intended to work 
hard, rise rapidly to a superior position in the 
business, earn plenty of money, buy a house, 
and send for his mother to come on and live 
with him. With his surplus wealth he in- 
tended to give every member of the Pantops 
18 * 0 


210 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


family the special desire of their hearts, even 
down to Auntie Blanche, who coveted above 
all things a pair of specs with shiny silver rims. 

Don’t forget what Professor Coleman said 
about your lack of the adhesive property,” 
said Pierre in jesting earnestness. 

shall never forget what Professor Cole- 
man said,” was John’s reply in such solemn 
tones that Edna looked into his face amazed. 
She had never heard the easy-going John 
speak so gravely before; she marvelled what 
had come over him. 

Take me to Europe, won’t you, John, when 
that fortune is made? That is the thing I 
most long for and least expect and John 
answered, as gayly as Laurie had asked, that 
such was his intention as soon as his ship 
should come in. 

One September morning the Questiford 
stage rolled up to the house, and John took 
one farewell look at the dear faces gathered 
at the gate, and another at the pleasant old 
homestead, and was whirled away till even 
the tops of the great elms could no longer be 
seen. Thus an important chapter was closed 
in the. life of John Schenck, and a new and 
more important one was about to open. 


GOINGS AND COMINGS. 


211 


It was some time before things settled down 
to the usual clockwork regularity of the quiet 
place. All these happenings had made it hard 
for everybody to return easily to the well- 
established routine of duties that had filled 
up the days before Edna’s going away, the 
professor’s visit, and John’s departure. Mrs. 
Schenck came down stairs o’ mornings with 
red eyes, which she accounted for as the re- 
sult of headache. The young people began 
to wonder if it were possible for Aunt 
Schenck to love even John enough to lie 
awake at night and cry. For all that, she 
bustled about the house, scolded the servants, 
and worried Edna with her rules the same as 
ever. 

In the Look-out Room things were moved 
back to their old places. Edna’s desk again 
stood at the west window, and pages of bright 
little stories for children’s periodicals were 
scattered upon it as before. Doubtless new 
plots were developed from the scenes and ac- 
quaintances that had enlarged the author’s ex- 
perience of life and Nature during her absence. 
John’s scroll-saw had been bequeathed to Lau- 
rie, who used it only occasionally, when he had. 
no more serious work- on hand for the ‘^odd 


212 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


moments.” His best time and thoughts for 
the autumn months were to be devoted to 
painting a picture for Professor Coleman ; he 
only waited for a fitting subject to present 
itself. In search of this he took long walks 
in the early mornings in every direction. At 
last, Keed Pemsen helped him to a decision. 
As soon as he learned the intention of Laurie 
he exclaimed, Now, why didn’t you let on 
afore ? There’s a spot on the meadow road, 
not more’n two mile off, that’s the prettiest 
pictur to be found in Ameriky outside of a 
gold frame.” 

Laurie consented to go with Peed and see 
the picture ; and the result was, he decided 
that it should not much longer remain out- 
side of a gold frame, and before long a neatly- 
finished specimen of Laurence’s artistic skill 
was hanging over Professor Coleman’s man- 
tel in his far-away home. 

Peed was a happier boy now than he had 
been through the summer. Time had hung 
heavy on his hands, except indeed when his 
father had managed to make him do a little 
work in the shop. Although he had tolerated 
John, and admired the professor, and become 
somewljat used to Edna’s absence, he had not 


GOINGS AND COMINGS. 


213 


felt anything like the comfortable freedom 
which he had formerly held, in common with 
Victor, of roaming about Pantops, in-doors and 
out, according to, his inclination. Again he 
established himself in the laboratory to watch 
and question Pierre when at his chemical ex- 
periments, and in the studio when Laurie had 
time to paint ; once more he superintended Rex 
as he stuffed birds or improved his aquarium. 
When the boys were not at home he was con- 
tented to stand behind Edna’s chair and watch 
the progress of her pen over the paper. She 
began at last to make him useful by reading 
her productions to him and watching to see if 
he smiled or sighed at the passages intended to 
produce emotion, thus judging of her probable 
success in interesting the children for whose 
pleasure she worked. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


EXPRESS AND MAIL. 

A DAY or two after John’s departure Ed- 
na and her aunt were much mystified 
by the arrival of a pretty solid package — a box 
it seemed to be — by express from New York, 
and addressed to Master Reginald Willoughby. 
As it came during school-hours, curiosity was 
held in abeyance for some time. Mrs. Schenck 
wished to waive ceremony and undo the pack- 
age at once, but Edna — who ever since the day 
when she had asserted her rights in the Look- 
out Room had acquired a certain degree of 
dignity in her aunt’s esteem— declared that 
such an insult should not be offered her lit- 
tle brother. 

Why, aunt,” she exclaimed, when you 
were a little girl did you like it if grown peo- 
ple read your letters or took the first bite of 
your candy ?” 

214 


EXPRESS AND MAIL. 


215 


“I did not have much candy, and don’t 
know that I ever got a letter; hut il I had I 
guess I should have had more rcspec*! for my 
parents than to set myself up as young folks 
do now-a-days.” 

Mrs. Schenck went immediately out of the 
room in a hufiP, but the wonder-inspiring pack- 
age remained without the disturbance of a knot 
of its string till Kex came. It was Auntie 
Blanche who saw him bounding over the gate, 
and called out to him the surprising intelli- 
gence that Christmas had done come for some 
folks, and they’d better take a look in the din- 
ing-room. Fingers flew then and knots were 
cut in a hurry, and before the wondering eyes 
of the female portion of the household Bex 
drew forth from its case a complete and hand- 
some microscope. While the rest examined 
and admired the curious thing, its happy 
owner stood in the middle of the floor chuck- 
ling, with big tears in his eyes. It was Edna 
who discovered a card in the bottom of the 
box bearing the name ‘‘Anthony Coleman,” 
and on its other side, in characters so cramped 
as to be almost illegible, was written this quo- 
tation from Milton, which Rex determined 
to commit to memory ; 


216 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


“ The desire which tends to know 
The works of God, thereby to glorify 
The great Work-master, leads to no excess 
That reaches blame, but rather merits praise. 

The more it seems excess ; 

For wonderful indeed are all his works, 

Pleasant to know, and worthiest to be all 
Had in remembrance, alway with delight.” 

Before Bex had recovered himself sufficient- 
ly to speak, Laurie and Pierre came in for 
their dinner, and the unusual state of things 
had to be explained to them. Then three 
hearty cheers were given for Professor Cole- 
man, whereupon Bex found voice and joined 
in with a good-will. 

A number of slides accompanied the micro- 
scope. In vain did Mrs. Schenck announce 
that dinner was waiting and time flying ; not 
one of the young folks could be induced to 
leave the new centre of attraction until each 
had looked at and wondered over the sting 
of a bee, the jaw of a spider, a picture of 
the royal family of England, some spicules 
of sponge, and some diatoms. 

^‘But, Bex,” said Pierre, “do you know 
how to manage the instrument ? It will re- 
quire to be tenderly dealt with, and you are 
not the most careful boy in the world.” 


EXPRESS AND MAIL. 217 

I shall have to study it out for myself,” 
said Rex. ^^The professor told me a few 
things about microscopes, but if I had thought 
then that I was going to have one of my very 
own, I^d have found out a good deal more.” 

Rex had no appetite for dinner that noon ; 
he carried his precious box to the Look-out 
Room, and spent every moment until school- 
time in trying to master some of its mys- 
teries. 

The next day the mail brought to this for- 
tunate boy a book full of illustrations, telling 
all that a young student needed to know about 
microscopes, giving advice as to the selection 
of objects, and plain directions about mount- 
ing them. Rex’s cup of happiness was full ; 
he envied nobody when, school over, he could, 
with Reed at his side to assist, study out all 
the possibilities of his new treasure or walk 
about the neighborhood collecting objects to 
be viewed by its help. He felt sure that this 
possession was of more value to him than 
many books, and went to work with all dili- 
gence to make use of his eyes, as the professor 
had counselled him. 

Letters came regularly from John, the first 
ones expressing great satisfaction with his 
19 


218 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


work, his employers, his boarding-place ; he 
felt himself to be on the high road to success, 
and filled nearly every page with projects and 
hopes for the future, which his matter-of-fact 
mother glanced over with a “ Pshaw !” but his 
cousins read with eager sympathy. After he 
had been away about three weeks there came 
an epistle in an entirely different tone. John 
was now convinced that he was working too 
hard ; he had no leisure for any fun ; he was 
not going to like that business anyway, and 
thought he had better resign the position and 
come home to wait until something more to 
his taste should turn up. 

Mrs. Schenck replied to this letter in a few 
brief sentences, but they meant a good deal. 
Edna and the boys went to the Look-out 
Room, and, selecting a sheet from the stock 
of foolscap reserved by the author for literary 
purposes, wrote a joint appeal to John to have 
a good think before he took any decisive step. 
Pierre urged him to act like a man, and bade 
him remember that he had his own way to 
make in the world, and that his duty to his 
mother should hinder him from obeying any 
rash impulse. 

Pierre had a lofty — and sometimes rather 


EXPRESS AND MAIL. 


219 


offensive — style of expressing himself to the 
other boys — a tone which pervaded his por- 
tion of the family letter. Laurie perceived this, 
and told him that it would make John angry. 
^^For/^ said he, ‘^you are very little older, and 
yet you talk to him as if you were his father ; 
I would not stand that if I were in his place.^^ 
But Pierre refused to alter a word, and so 
Laurie did all .he could to soften the im- 
pression by his own mild though equally de- 
cided words. Edna’s portion was very affec- 
tionate and sweet, while she echoed the advice 
of her brothers and begged him to stick to his 
work. Bex in bold round characters bade him 
remember what the professor had said, and by 
no means give up the ship, adding that it was 
really worth John’s while to come back and see 
his microscope. 

With all the family opinions thus against 
him, John was forced to think better of his 
resolve to throw up his position ; and, to his 
credit, it must be said that after this one at- 
tack of his old malady, fickleness, he did ad- 
here bravely to his good resolutions, and said 
no more about making a change. 

Shortly after this the mail brought a sur- 
prise to Pan tops even more delightful to its 


220 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


special recipient than the microscope had been 
to Kex ; and this was a letter from a Mr. Giles 
Bartlett of St. Louis to Laurence Willoughby. 
Laurie was alone when he read it, and had a 
little chance for a mental digestion of its con- 
tents before making them known. 

Mr. Bartlett wrote that he was on the point 
of leaving home for a tour through Italy, Ger- 
many, and Switzerland — that he would proba- 
bly be absent from eighteen months to two 
years. On account of his poor eyesight he 
needed a companion who could act as amanu- 
ensis and read to him. He wrote to Master 
Willoughby, he said, at the suggestion of his 
friend Professor Coleman, who had recom- 
mended him with great warmth as a most 
suitable youth for the position. His inten- 
tion was to pay all the expenses of his com- 
panion and give him a small allowance. 
Further details he reserved for future settle- 
ment should Master Willoughby decide to 
accept his proposal. The middle of October 
was the time he intended starting : an imme- 
diate answer was requested. 

Laurie had taken his letter to the Look-out 
Room. Especially since the coming of Mrs. 
Schenck had this been the place of retirement, 


EXPRESS AND MAIL. 


221 


as well as work, for the young AVilloughbys. 
There, in the studio, gazing out of the north 
window, letter in hand, like one in a trance, 
who sees all things but perceives nothing, 
Pierre found him. 

Come, come,” s^id he ; we are all wait- 
ing for you at table ; didn’t you hear the bell ? 
Why, Laurie, what are you staring at? Why 
do you look so strangely?” 

Let us go down,” Laurie said, and turned 
toward Pierre with such sparkling eyes that 
the latter knew before his brother spoke that 
something of great importance had come into 
his life. 

Great excitement prevailed in the dining- 
room when Mr. Bartlett’s proposal was made 
known, and there was but one opinion as to 
the answer that must be sent. So glorious an 
opportunity must not be neglected. Even 
Aunt Schenck expressed herself with much 
warmth of feeling on the subject, and re- 
marked at once to Edna that she would go 
out that very afternoon and buy a piece of 
muslin, so that they together could go right 
to work on shirts for the boy. The hero of 
all the excitement was quiet while the others 
talked, and when directly addressed remarked 

19 ^ 


222 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


that he could not see his way clear about go- 
ing. In surprise the rest asked him for his 
reasons, but in vain ; Laurie was one that kept 
his own counsel. It was motherly Edna who 
succeeded in getting at the hidden trouble. 
Laurie’s slender earnings being all swallowed 
up in regular expenses, he had nothing to fall 
back upon with which to provide himself a 
suitable outfit. 

Oh, why did our father make such a will ?” 
exclaimed Rex with a comical sigh. 

Now this is all nonsense, Laurence !” re- 
marked his aunt with' severity. ^^Of course 
you are going to Europe; not another word 
about it! I am going to buy and make up 
a full set of under-clothing for you, to begin 
with. You don’t need so much, surely, that 
among us all we can’t give you an outfit.” 

At this signal kind offers came thick and 
fast. Auntie Blanche hobbled up to Laurie 
and hugged him to her breast, while she in- 
formed him that she had a beautiful set of 
fine cotton socks all ready for him ; she had 
knit them during her ‘^odd moments,” she said, 
and laid them by. Little did she guess, she 
faltered, that they were to be worn by one of 
her boys in the dust and dirt of a foreign land. 


EXPRESS AND MAIL. 


223 


Pierre instantly invited his brother to make a 
visit to the tailor at his expense; Edna whis- 
pered to him that he need have no concern 
about the other requirements ; she took it as 
her special privilege to get his trunk and pack 
it with whatever was needful for his comfort 
over and above what had already been prom- 
ised. 

Thus the great question was settled, and 
Laurie, with a heart full to overflowing with 
happy anticipations, wrote his reply to Mr. 
Bartlett. Several letters passed between them 
during the next two weeks, in which all the 
arrangements for the journey were made with 
perfect satisfaction to all parties. Now all 
was bustle and excitement in the quiet old 
home. Everybody worked and planned and 
dreamed pleasant visions for the favored boy. 
Edna left her story just at its crisis, shut up 
her desk without a pang, and stitched from 
morning till night on his wardrobe. Rex 
neglected his microscope and hovered about 
Laurie with admiring wonder. John wrote 
a letter full of hearty congratulations, adding 
that he should try his best to be at the steam- 
er’s wharf and bid him good-bye. Reed Rem- 
seu hung around more than ever, much 


224 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


to Mrs. Schenck’s disgust, watched every pre- 
paration, and asked Laurie many and perplex- 
ing questions about the countries he was going 
to see. 

The end of it all came at last, and Laurie 
with his new friend stood on the deck of an 
ocean steamer waving his handkerchief to 
John Schenck, the last of the dear home-faces 
he was to see for many a day. 

At Pantops a great silence and gloom set- 
tled over the household. After such unwont- 
ed hurry and stir came the usual comfortless 
rebound. Edna could not settle herself at her 
writing, for thoughts of the dear traveller came 
between her and the fancied fortunes of her 
heroes. Mrs. Schenck, for once in her life, 
admitted that she needed rest — she was com- 
pletely tired out with work. The boys went 
through their daily round of work and study, 
but for them there was a great void when the 
‘^odd moments’’ came and the north side of 
Look-out Room remained orderly and vacant. 
■Auntie Blanche moved her easy-chair out of 
that chosen retreat, saying that it was too 
powerful lonesome, now that Marse John 
wasn’t there to work his racket-saw, and 
Marse Laurie had done gone abroad.” Edna 


EXPRESS AND MAIL. 


225 


remarked that she took comfort in thinking 
that there were no more changes ahead, since 
it was not probable any other member of the 
little family would think of beginning busi- 
ness in New York or setting sail to Europe. 

She and Pierre were standing together in 
the shadow of the great elms, watching the 
sunset glow in the skies, when this was said ; 
she thought that Pierre had a peculiar ex- 
pression in his eyes as he looked at her with- 
out making any response. They lingered a 
few moments longer, and when the glory 
above them had faded to sombre gray they 
walked slowly toward the house. At the door 
Pierre placed in his sistePs hand a letter and 
turned away. A thrill of foreboding passed 
through Edna’s heart at sight of the tbrn en- 
velope bearing Professor Coleman’s writing. 
Letters of late had signified events in the 
Pan tops family. She went to her room, light- 
ed a lamp, and read the following : 

Pierre Willoughby : 

My Dear Boy ; How are you all thriv- 
ing at Pantops? and what is the latest news 
from Laurence ? How many odd moments 
have you devoted of late to chemistry ? The 
p 


226 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


time has now arrived when I can make known 
to you a plan — or rather a hope — which has 
been maturing toward its realization since my 
visit to Pantops.' A scholarship in this col- 
lege is now vacant, and my efforts toward se- 
curing it for you have met with success. A 
full course ^of study is open to you, and the 
only expenses that will come upon you are 
those for board and washing, I have a plan 
in my mind by which you can easily, meet 
these by the work of a few spare hours daily. 
Make your decision at once, and let me know. 
The fall term has already begun, and there is 
no time to be lost.’’ 

The usually quiet Edna threw herself upon 
the bed and gave herself up to a fit of weep- 
ing. It was long before she grew calm — not, 
indeed, until exhaustion overcame her and she 
had no more tears to shed. She fell asleep at 
last with gloomy thoughts of how fast the 
birds were leaving the dear home nest ! how 
soon it might be empty ! 

Morning brought serener and more unselfish 
feelings. Edna lingered long before herdressing- 
table brushing her hair, longing and dreading to 
go down and talk with Pierre. Her eye rest- 


EXPRESS AND MAIL. 


227 


eel a moment on the portrait of a great-uncle 
hung over her mantel. It was a noble face, 
yet marked with strbng lines that told plain- 
ly of a struggle and a victory. Was there, 
Edna wondered, no way to nobleness and vic- 
tory but by means of struggle? Must she let 
her brothers go forth, one after another, to the 
uncertain contest of life? 

The decision was made as Edna felt from 
the beginning that it must be: Pierre was to 
go. Again she and Aunt Schenck were at 
work on an outfit — this time one of less labor 
and expense, because Pierre’s home-leaving 
indicated more serious work and needed less 
holiday attire than Laurie’s. Pierre found 
her one day alone in the almost deserted 
Look-out Room busily stitching away, with 
tears marking her progress along the seam. 
He came and put his arms around her with- 
out a word. This, instead of comforting, 
seemed to make the tears come faster. 

‘‘ Oh, Pierre !” she cried, how can I let 
you go ? how can I ?” 

^^But you let John go, Edna, and then 
Laurence ; why are you not willing to spare 
me ?” 

Oh, but John was only a cousin — hardly 


228 


THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. 


that — and we had known him but a short 
time. Laurie, dear fellow ! was younger — 
I miss him deeply — but, Pierre, it is you 
upon whom we have all leaned ; you are the 
man of the house ; you have been my inti- 
mate companion. You know I have never 
made enthusiastic friendships with other girls ; 
I have had only you.^^ 

Then Pierre put her arm in his, and together 
they paced up and down the old room while 
he told her his long-silent hopes and desires, 
and how providentially this friendly offer 
of Professor Coleman was opening for him the 
door to a thorough education, through which 
he meant to pass right on to success and fame. 
‘‘ I shall not be content, Edna,^^ he said “ un- 
til I have made you proud to be known as 
my sister.^’ 

Ambitious boy she answered. I love 
you now, and is not that better than being 
proud of you?’^ 

When the winter set in, and deep snows cov- 
ered the pleasant garden-paths. Aunt Schenck 
and Edna were left alone, with only Pex^s whis 
tie and Victor’s bark to make an occasional 
noise through the much-too-quiet house. 




'» * 


•v 


% ' 




i « « . 




# 

I 


s 




# 






% 






» 


I 




$ 


% 


4 


9- H 


> 



I 






» 


A 




« 


# 


V 


% 



-\ 

-t\l 

^ f 


« 


f. 


« 




1 

i 


I 


\ 






r 





I 




% 


i 






« 



p 


« 


4 


« • 







A 


\ 

I 

* 


/ 



i 


. A 


r 


•S V 




> 


\ 


% 








4 V 





♦ 



X • 







V 


% 


% 


I 


V 


I 


# 


# 




► 



9 


\ 



-I 


( 



» 




% >>A 






T 





# 




\ 




f 


1 




S: 



t 





A 



kk. 




V 

% 





% 


V 





• • ' 

♦ 




! 





• 1 


i 


t 










t 







I 







» 






I 


* 







